Birds of a Feather
by DukeBrymin
Summary: A little girl, kidnapped from her loving parents and found by someone else. A little boy, rescued from those who didn't want him. When they meet, something wonderful happens.
1. Chapter 1, Weasley Children

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 1, Weasley Children

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, there isn't anything we can do." The matron looked particularly sad at having to convey such dreadful news, but no-one in the room seemed to be too concerned about her feelings at that moment.

Molly's face fell, as she finally accepted the Healer's statement as fact. She turned to her husband to see his reaction, and it was just as she had feared. As she watched, tears filled his eyes, and his face crumpled with the pain of understanding. She reached out to him and, when he came into her arms, held him just as close as she possibly could, trying to staunch the flow of tears and emotions that were cascading down his face.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur, I wish--"

But her husband cut her off. "No, Mollywobbles, there isn't anything to apologize for. I know this wasn't anyone's fault, and I'm not angry. I'm just sad that we won't be able to have any more children." He sniffed mightily, trying to regain control of himself, before turning to the matron.

"Would you please excuse us for a moment? We'd like to have some privacy."

The older lady smiled sadly at them, muttered a quick spell to clean her work area, and walked out, closing the door.

"But, Arthur, you _know_ how much we wanted a girl! And now we can't even have another boy! I so wanted to give you a little girl to hold and love, and I thought now was a good time to have one. After all, Ronnie's a year old, and I didn't want to wait any longer."

Arthur looked down, saddened by the grief in his wife's voice. "Molly," he said after a minute, "it doesn't matter." She went to interrupt him, but he raised his hand to stop her. "Yes, I would have loved to have had a little girl, but we're still a family. I'd much rather have what we have now, six wonderful sons, and each other, than take a chance on losing you by trying to have another one. I really do appreciate the wonderful children you've given me, and I won't let the lack of a daughter interfere with my. . . _our_ happiness. Besides, the boys will be growing up soon enough. They'll get married, and I'll have the chance to have daughters-in-law, and that will be wonderful in its own way."

Molly looked Arthur in the eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. She had been so worried that this eventuality would crush his spirit, but seeing him like this, eyes hopeful, albeit somewhat teary, made her feel much better about the news from the Healers.

"All right, dear. We'll just adjust to this, and keep working on making our family the best it can be."

oooooooooo

In the woods outside of the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole, a small, rat-faced man scurried along next to someone who was taller, and much more handsome. In spite of the good looks of the taller man, he still evinced a feeling of distrust, as if his aristocratic veneer was just that, a thin layer of attractiveness spread over a base of filth. "But, Lucius, what are we going to do with the baby?" Fear oozed from the small man's voice, reinforced by his constant and furtive glances behind the pair.

"Silence!" the man known as Lucius hissed urgently. "We're almost done with this stupid task. Do you want someone to hear us?"

The little man squeaked in fear, and immediately looked up in horror at having made another sound. The tall man, whose blonde hair shone in the moonlight, declined to comment, and instead commenced searching the ground for something. Finding a small hollow at the base of an oak tree, evidently what he was looking for, he lowered the small bundle that he had been carrying, tucked it between the tree roots, and stood up again.

"Okay, the spell will wear off in about ten minutes, so we'd better get back to where they'll be able to trace us."

The other man looked confused. "What spell?" he asked.

Lucius sneered at him and turned to start walking. "Veela have incredible olfactory senses." At the other's uncomprehending look, he explained further. "They can smell when others of their disgusting race are near. So if we wanted them to not find the baby, we needed to mask her scent. I found a spell that will cover up all scent from someone for half an hour. They've been tracking us for awhile now, but we were able to sneak away to this forsaken place under cover of that spell. We need to get back to where I cast the spell, so that we can apparate away. They'll come to that spot, smell that we apparated, and try to follow us, assuming that we took the foul baby with us. Even if they manage to find where we apparated to, they'll think they're wrong, because they won't find the baby. Then we can come back later and take the thing to our Lord, and he can perform his experiment on it. Now, be quiet, we're almost there."

Back in the trees, the small Veela child started to wake up.

oooooooooo

That summer would prove to be a rather significant one for the Weasley family. Of course, it started out like any other. School had let out for the summer, which meant that Bill and Charlie were not away at school anymore. All six boys were home all day long, which was wonderful for their mother. She worried about them when they were out of her sight, and having them all underfoot, while occasionally rather chaotic, was also very calming to her mothering spirit.

Of course, after about two days, the Weasley matriarch had had enough of their bickering, and banished them all to the garden to de-gnome it. Fred and George were placed under the care of Bill, and Ronnie was given to Charlie to take care of. This left Percy to his own devices, but this shouldn't have been a problem. Percy had always shown himself to be a well-mannered, and rather calm child. Very dependable and obedient, he had almost never gotten himself into trouble. Today, however, would prove to be quite a startling exception to this rule.

Percy was bored. He had always disliked de-gnoming the garden--it was just too dirty for him. Reading books was much more to his liking, even though he couldn't read very well yet. Percy's greatest desire was to be the best at _something_. With Bill and Charlie home, he was no longer the champion gnome-thrower, and didn't like not being in the spot-light. So, he decided that instead of getting dirty tossing gnomes, he'd pick a bunch of flowers for his mother. She'd probably be very happy with them, and might even tell the other boys how nice he was.

Picking a moment when the Charlie was bent over Ronnie, wiping his nose, and seeing that Bill was chasing one of the twins (Percy thought it was George, but he was too far away to tell for sure), he wandered around the corner of the house. Now that he was out of sight of the kitchen and the others, he strode purposefully towards the meadow where the best flowers were growing. His mind full of thoughts of which colors he liked best, it took him awhile to notice the sound of a crying baby.

oooooooooo

"Mum! Mum! Come quick!" came the sound of Bill's excited voice. Molly had been working on lunch at the moment, and just about dropped the knife she'd been using to cut the bread. She rushed outside, only to see all of her children toddling, running, or walking off towards the woods that surrounded the meadow.

"Bill, come back here this instant!" she called, hoping to get to the bottom of whatever was causing the upset in her children.

"But, Mum, we have to go now--she's crying and won't stop!" came her eldest son's frantic reply. Nevertheless, he stopped and turned to face her.

"Who's crying?" Molly asked.

"We don't know! Percy said he found her and tried to pick her up, but she wouldn't let him and just keeps crying. So he came to get the rest of us, and I thought we should tell you where we were going. C'mon!"

Molly was not the most athletically-inclined of the Weasley family. Having five pregnancies, and six children, and being the mother of a family that loved to eat meant that she had not kept her girlish figure as she could have wanted to. She knew that her husband didn't mind in the slightest, he loved her just as she was, and truth-be-told, it didn't bother her too much either. But when a child was in danger, she called upon unusual reserves of speed and stamina, and usually managed to be among the first on the scene. This was one of those times, and she managed to arrive right behind Charlie, and consequently Ronnie, at the large oak tree.

"Oh my, look at the poor thing," Molly said, to no-one in particular, as she knelt down to see if she could discover more about the crying girl. As she moved towards the child, the girl obviously noticed her movements, for she stopped crying to look at the woman in curiosity. "There, there, little one, let's see if there's anything wrong with you." Molly picked up the girl, and started unwrapping the dirty blanket from around her small body. By this time all the boys had arrived and had formed a somewhat quiet, but rather restless, semi-circle around the two females.

"Who-" George said.

"-dat?" Fred finished.

Little Ronnie just stuck his fingers in his mouth and grimaced.

"Shut up, you two," reprimanded Charlie. He fancied himself rather knowledgeable in the ways of children, and decided that he could explain this easily. "That's Mum and Dad's new baby. You know, they go out and find the baby in the woods and bring it home--that's how they got Ronnie and everything." With a conspiratorial glance at Bill, he mumbled "anyway, that's what my friends at school said."

Bill didn't have any evidence to the contrary, but he _had_ noticed something peculiar. "Mum, how come you didn't get all fat this time before getting a baby from the woods?"

Molly, thankfully, was used to impertinent questions from her children, so didn't take offense. "Boys, we really shouldn't take the time to talk about this right now--she's still very sad, and we should take her home and see if there's anything wrong with her. Charlie, get Ronnie please, and Bill, make sure Fred and George come home too. Percy, you come with me, since you found her."

All the boys indicated their agreement, grudging, in the case of the twins, and rather vague, in the case of Ronnie, and followed behind their mother, back to the ramshackle structure they called home.

oooooooooo

Arthur Weasley was rather surprised to receive a Floo call from his wife in the middle of the day. Thankfully, all he was doing that day was paperwork, so taking off the rest of the afternoon was feasible. This was a good thing, since by the tone of his wife's voice, he would have been in for quite the lecture if he hadn't showed up within ten minutes of her request. Upon arriving home, he was shocked to see his wife holding a beautiful, blonde baby girl lovingly in her arms.

"Well, what do we have here?" he asked.

Molly told her husband the happenings of that morning, interspersed with sometimes-helpful comments from the boys, and ended by saying, "I don't recognize her features--she doesn't look like she belongs to the Lovegoods, and there aren't any other magical families this close."

"Are you sure she's magical?" Arthur asked. The chances of a lost child having magic were rather small, but it had to have happened sometime in the past, just by chance, so he couldn't rule out the possibility.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly _how_ magical she is, but when we came into the house, she saw Ronnie's stuffed Quaffle, and summoned it to herself."

"I bet that went over really well, didn't it?" Arthur responded.

"Well, it's been fine since I conjured up another one for the little girl to play with and gave Ronnie back his own."

"May I hold her, Mollywobbles?" The pleading look in Arthur's eyes was clear enough that she couldn't say "no", even though she hadn't quite gotten her fill of the child in her arms.

"Of course, dear. Here you go."

As Arthur received the little girl into his arms, he looked down into her bright blue eyes with his own deep brown ones, and felt an instant love for the pretty little girl. "She's beautiful, Molly!"

Molly watched the scene with joy, although it was tinged with sadness. She had so wanted to give Arthur his own baby girl--since the fateful visit with the Healer they had talked about her inability to do so, and they both were reconciled to the fact, but that didn't mean they were happy about it. Seeing him now with this little girl in his arms, she couldn't help but think that maybe Providence was smiling upon them by leading them to this little lost girl.

And she certainly couldn't disagree with his assessment of her looks. The little girl had long, pale-blonde hair. Her crystal blue eyes shining up at them were the eyes of an angel. Her skin was perfectly clear and smooth, unmarred by any imperfections, with the exception of little tear tracks that hadn't managed to get cleaned off yet. She looked about as un-Weasley-ish as it was possible to get, but regardless, they felt their hearts fill with love for the little lost girl.

"Perhaps. . . perhaps we should let her stay with us until we find her family?" Arthur's suggestion was really a question. He knew that Molly really would be the one to take care of her, and while she _had_ said that she wanted another one, this would be rather an imposition at the time. He hoped she'd be okay with it, and having been married to her for so long he _thought_ he knew how she'd react, but it never paid to assume too much.

"How dare you even ask that, Arthur?" Molly exclaimed. "Of course she'll stay with us for the time being. And if we can't find her parents, then we'll give her a home right here. No-one deserves to be put in an orphanage, especially when we have enough and to spare." She wasn't really upset with him--she had understood the real question in Arthur's voice just as well as he had. But being the mother that she was, she couldn't help but be passionate about seeing helpless children have the proper care given to them.

"In fact, let's start getting a place ready for her to sleep. She can be in our room for the next couple of nights until she gets used to being here, and if she gets. . . needs to stay here longer, then we'll put her in with Ronnie until we can add another room. Or maybe Charlie or Bill can move to the attic and we can put her in their room. Oh dear, we do need to think of a name for her; we can't just keep calling her 'the girl'. What shall we call her, dear?"

"Well, she's just so beautiful, she reminds me of a queen of old. Perhaps, Guinevere?"

Molly made a face at that. "That's too lofty a name for a little girl like this, but I think you're on the right track. What about Ginevra? It's Italian for Guinevere, and we can just shorten it to Ginny." She looked down at the little girl, who had fallen asleep in her arms. "Precious one, I know that this isn't your real home, and we don't know your real name, but would you be okay if we called you Ginny?" And it seemed as though it would be, for the beautiful blonde-haired girl smiled in her sleep.

oooooooooo

Paradoxically, the continued failure to find young Ginny's parents made the Weasleys happier and happier. As the days progressed, and their contacts within the Ministry and the Hogwarts Alumni Association failed to turn up a family who had lost a baby girl, hope took root, and grew, and flowered in the hearts of the Weasley parents. The Weasley boys, too, were getting used to the idea of having a little sister. Ronnie was, perhaps, the least happy about it, as it moved him from being "the baby of the family" to being "_one _of the babies of the family". But he adjusted well enough, with just a few outburst of possessiveness showing up occasionally when Ginny would play with his stuffed chess pieces.

Finally, after four or five months had passed, Arthur and Molly started the paperwork to legally and magically adopt the little girl who had won their hearts. They knew that if they ever found the birth parents in the future, they'd still have to work with them to ensure that Ginny was taken care of, but until such time came, they could give her the love and support and stable home life that she needed.


	2. Chapter 2, The Rescue

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 2, The Rescue

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Harry was not a happy child. In the recent month, many things had happened to him that were rather bewildering, and not very nice. First there was all that loud noise and shouting, and that horrible pain in his head. Then he had been picked up out of his crib, where he had been rather comfortable, thank you very much, and taken outside, where it was rather cold. He had flown through the air for awhile, which would have been a lot more fun if he hadn't been continually scratched by a rather whiskery man, but had fallen asleep before he could recognize where he was going. Then, after the nicest dream about Mummy, and rocking in his bedroom, he had been rudely awoken by yet another scream.

Things had gotten worse after that. He couldn't find his Mummy anywhere, nor his Papa. The woman who took care of him didn't seem happy at all, and the man whom he saw occasionally was very scary to look at. All he did was yell things that Harry didn't understand. At first, Harry had tried asking where his Mummy and Papa were, but after having his mouth flipped three or four times, he decided that this woman must not know, and didn't want him asking anymore. His comfortable crib was gone too, and he was put in a small closet every night to sleep. And if he tried to get out, the door wouldn't open for him.

No, things were not going well for Harry, but he didn't know what to do about it.

oooooooooo

The couple looked rather out-of-place on Privet Drive. The neighborhood in question prided itself on being rather uniform in its demeanor. The residents of Little Whinging all strove to conform to the accepted standards of normality, and succeeded admirably, with the exception of two people. Harry, of course, was one of them, although he wasn't aware of the fact. Arabella Figg, the batty old lady with too many cats (cats who looked much too intelligent for their own good), was the other one. Of course, anyone from a more eclectic, and friendly, area would have commented on how dreadfully dull and boring Privet Drive was. Its denizens would have, of course, taken that as a phenomenal compliment, and refused to see that their uniformity was blandness, and that the very same-ishness of their lives was threatening to turn them into mindless automatons. So, when the two exceedingly beautiful people appeared one morning, they were looked at askance, and much gossip was started behind closed doors and over backyard hedges.

The consensus of the Privet Drive-ians was that they must be French, judging from their dress and deportment. Of course, anyone wearing anything different than the accepted day-wear would probably have been assigned the same nationality. After all, living on Privet Drive tended to limit one's horizons. In this case, however unusually, they were right.

"Hello, we are looking for a lost child. She is a pretty little girl of about 1 year old. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. Have you perhaps, seen her?" All this was delivered in a smooth, cultured voice, that had just a trace of a Continental accent, giving yet more fuel to the idea that the couple was Not From Around Here.

Mrs. #8 took a moment to look the couple up and down, mentally tally how much the clothing must have cost, decide that they were probably thieves, and then, very genteelly, tell them to get off her property, before shutting the door very firmly. Of course, the next moment she was peering out through the curtains to see what was going to happen.

What happened next was that the man turned to his very beautiful, blonde wife, and sighed yet again. "Giselle, my dear, I'm afraid that this is just not the best way to find our little Madeline. Going house-to-house throughout all these neighborhoods is just making us more and more upset."

Giselle, with a downcast face, just turned, took her husband's hand, and started to the next house.

"Maybe if there were a way to show them a picture, it would help," she suggested.

"I know dear, but we don't have any that we can afford to have them see."

"Pierre, I don't care how rude these people are, I still think we should keep looking." As she said this, she looked up at her husband, pinning him with her bright blue eyes, communicating that she would not willingly give up the search yet.

"Okay, mon cherie, we will keep looking."

When the French couple arrived at #4, they prepared themselves to be rejected yet again by the lady of the house. But before they had a chance to ring the bell, the door opened, and they were instead faced with a small, black-haired child. His green eyes were sad, and he looked as though he hadn't been fed very well.

"Hello young man, is your mother home?" Pierre asked.

The little boy started crying, but then, by an effort of will, forced any expression off his face, and said "No. She died."

Giselle's heart broke at hearing those words, uttered in such a sad voice. What hurt her heart even more was seeing the sadness that had been reflected in this child's face, before the mask had come down over it. 'The eyes', she thought. 'The eyes still show his feelings,' and something started growing in her heart; something that had just about died out that summer when her Madeline had been taken.

She knelt down on the front step, heedless of her clothing, and spoke softly to the little boy. "What's your name?"

Two green eyes looked into hers, and she started to see some life come back into his expression. "Hawwy," he said.

"Harry? Is that it?" Giselle wasn't sure she'd heard correctly, but that seemed closest to what the boy could have meant.

His vigorous nodding confirmed her guess. Hoping to find out more about the little boy who was so clearly happy to have someone to talk to, she continued. "Well, Harry, is your father home?" This had the opposite effect to what she had wanted, though, as his eyes turned sad again.

"No. He died."

Giselle's heart, which had been broken before, felt like it shattered into a multitude of pieces at this sad pronouncement. "Then who takes care of you?"

Her question was answered as she heard, from inside the house, a thoroughly unpleasant voice say "Boy! Why are you holding the door open?" And a moment later, a thin, bony, horse-faced woman came to the door. "Oh, hello, I didn't see you there." The woman's voice, which had started out sounding like a harpy's, finished up sounding as if she were trying, but failing spectacularly, to be gracious.

Giselle noticed the lady's reaction, and figured that she had noticed their clothing, and was pretending to be civilized until she could figure out how to react.

"Hello. I am Giselle Delacour, and this is my husband Pierre. We are visiting people in your neighborhood and asking if they've seen our daughter, who has been missing for quite some time. She would be about the size of Harry here--" The look on the housewife's face at the mention of Harry's name was enough to sour Giselle's disposition towards her permanently, had that not already happened. She filed that away for further consideration, however, and continued on. "--and has blonde hair and blue eyes. Have you, by any chance, seen her?"

Harry's guardian, evidently having decided that anyone who could manage to lose a child was not someone she wanted to associate with, let a frosty tone enter her voice. "No, we haven't. There are no lost children around here." Directing her attention at poor Harry, she snapped, "Shut the door, Boy, and get back to your chores!"

This was the final straw, in Giselle's mind, and she stood to her full height. "Who are you to be talking so cruelly to a small child like this?" The fire in her eyes practically dared the other woman to try to make an excuse for her evident abuse of the child.

"I'm his aunt, Petunia Dursley. His parents died in a car wreck while driving drunk, and I'm forced to take care of him. What business is it of yours?" Petunia wanted all this to come out sounding confident and forceful, but couldn't quite rid her voice of the slight fear that she felt at the look on Giselle's face.

"Well, Mrs. Dursley, I don't know how you run things in this country, but in my home, we treat children as the treasures they are. If this is a sample of how you treat Harry, then I've half a mind to take him from you!" Giselle hadn't really meant what she was saying—she had just wanted to prove a point to the exceedingly unlikeable woman in front of her. But she made the mistake of looking down at Harry when she said this, and the hope in his eyes at hearing her words caused her to make a decision right then and there. "In fact, Mrs. Dursley, I'm going to do just that. Harry, would you like to come live with us?"

Harry looked up at her and Pierre, then looked at his aunt cautiously. Petunia looked like she didn't really grasp what was going on, and that lack of prohibition was all Harry needed to turn back to Giselle and say "Yes." He took a step forward, towards Giselle and Pierre, and that seemed to snap Petunia out of her fog.

"But. . . he can't! He has to stay here!" She seemed almost panicked at the thought of Harry leaving, which was entirely at odds with her previous behavior towards him.

"Why?" Pierre asked, in an icy tone. "All you have shown us so far has been abusive behavior and lack of caring towards him. Perhaps you are afraid that he'll tell us more about how you treat him? Or perhaps your husband hits him and you don't want anyone to know?"

Petunia's face drained of all color at this, and Pierre knew he had struck gold. "I see. Well, then, you'll have no problem letting him come with us, right? In exchange, we promise not to take this matter up with the Mu-- the authorities, isn't that right, Giselle?"

Realizing that this was probably the best course of action, since they were treading on rather thin legal ground at the moment, Giselle reached down and took Harry's hand. "That's right, Mrs. Dursley, thank you for your time. We won't be in touch. Harry, is there anything of yours that you don't want to leave behind?"

From behind Giselle's legs came a small voice, "Blanky."

Giselle looked back to Petunia and said, "Get me Harry's blanket, please, and we'll be gone."

Petunia looked like she wanted to argue, but Pierre had stepped up behind the other two, and was trying his hardest to look menacing. He wasn't very good at it, but his effort, combined with Giselle's increasingly evident fury, was enough to cause the housewife to run down the hall, open a small door, grab a tattered blue blanket, and practically throw it at them. "Good riddance! Don't ever come back here!" She yelled this from halfway down the hall, showing how brave she really was, and demonstrating how desperately she hoped that they wouldn't feel the need to actually come into the house.

Taking the blanket, and picking up Harry, Giselle turned and stalked away from the house. Pierre reached in and shut the door, somewhat harder than was strictly necessary, and muttered something under his breath as he did so, then followed his wife to the secluded park down the street.

"Giselle, we should probably go back home and talk about what we're going to do now that we seem to have acquired a son. I promise that we won't give up looking for Madeline, but I think it's time to call in the Investigators. Is that okay?"

"Yes, Pierre, I think you're right. We are needed back home. I'm sure that Fleur will be happy to have us around more, and young Harry here needs to have a home environment that will be stable. Do you think you can apparate him that far?"

"Sure, let me take him."

She put Harry's hand in Pierre's and gave them both a kiss. "Now, Harry, we're going to travel to our home. It'll feel kind of funny when we do, but it won't take very long, and I promise you'll be all right. Can you be a big boy and go with Pierre?"

Harry thought about this and looked up at this man, who was so different from his Papa, but who felt, in many ways, the same way his father had. He looked back at Giselle, and nodded firmly, taking a better grip on the man's hand.

"Very good, Harry. I'll see you in just a bit." And then, with a small crack, she was gone.

Harry didn't have time to wonder too much about her having disappeared, because an instant later, he heard another crack, and then felt as if he were being squeezed through a rubber tube. The nice lady had been right—it didn't feel very good at all, but it was over quickly, and Harry saw that they were in a completely different place—a place that he'd call home for the rest of his life.

oooooooooo

A/N: Special thanks to my betas, sandyrah and rosiekatriona, without whom this would be less readable.

And, please review, I'm interested in your comments.


	3. Chapter 3, The Joining

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 3, The Joining

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 3

"Boys! Get in here now! How dare you go out and play in the garden? You know we have to go to the Ministry today! And in your best clothes! Bill, how could you let them do this?" Molly Weasley was not happy this morning. It was, perhaps, the most anxiously-anticipated morning that the Weasley household had had in the past while, certainly the most anticipated since Percy had found Ginny, almost exactly a year ago. Molly had made sure that everything was ready the night before, but, true to the nature of boys, her sons had done their level best to ruin all her plans. There they were, out in the vegetable patch, covered with dirt and leaves and grass and who knew what else. Seven bright heads of hair.

Molly took another look and stifled a groan. Ginny was out there with her brothers, participating just as rambunctiously in the morning's activities. Molly had trained herself to keep track of her brood by looking for the bright red hair that was the hallmark of Weasleys everywhere, and it was difficult, at times, to remember that she had a blonde girl in her household. She wasn't complaining, never that, but it _did_ take some getting used to.

"Children! Get in here, now!"

At this latest call from their mother, all seven disheveled children gathered from their pursuits, and trooped towards the house. Ginny and Ronnie came last, as usual, and were continuing whatever small conflict that they had been engaged in, by elbowing and poking each other, in the manner of siblings everywhere. Molly couldn't bring herself to be too upset at the two of them, they had really taken to each other, and got along almost as well as Fred and George did.

"Molly, are we ready to go?" came Arthur's excited voice from the stairwell. He was, if possible, even more anxious about the day than was Molly. Paperwork in the Ministry of Magic took awhile to process, but six months seemed to be excessively long, even for the Department of Family Relations, which consisted of one elderly witch who was usually out on sick leave. But the day had come, they were finally going to be able to adopt little Ginny, and make her a Weasley in name, as well as in love.

"Just about, dear," Molly responded, then turned to face the youngsters. "All right, line up, you lot." Ronnie and Ginny obediently stood in front of Molly, with the others arranging themselves behind the two youngest, shortest to tallest. They were very used to the Inspection Line, and Molly, again, thanked Merlin that she had been blessed with such wonderful, albeit boisterous, children.

"Ginny, hold your arms out." The little girl did as requested, and Molly performed a quick _Scourgify_ on her dress. "Okay, go wash your face, and wait by the fireplace."

The little blonde-haired girl ran off to do her mum's bidding, and Molly turned her attention to Ronnie. "Oh, Ronnie, how did you rip your trousers?"

"Fell down, Mum, sorry," came the answer, although his words were belied by the grin on his face.

"Okay, Ronnie, but you need to be more careful—I can only do _Reparo_ a certain number of times before the cloth won't hold anymore." Saying this, she fixed the hole, and cast the cleaning spell again to make his outfit more presentable. "Now, go wash your face, and don't forget your forehead this time!" She had to raise her voice at the end, as the youngster in question had taken off halfway through her instructions.

The rest of her boys were dealt with in the same fashion, although with Charlie and Bill, Arthur was standing by Molly's elbow, chivying them along.

By this time, Ginny and Ronnie had returned, and were standing by the fireplace, waiting for the rest of their siblings to arrive. One by one they appeared, and finally the whole family was ready to go.

"Okay, children, this is a very important trip. Does anyone know why?" Arthur asked.

Bill started to speak, but Charlie interrupted. "'Cause we get to go see where you work!" Charlie had been interested in his father's workplace for quite some time now, which made Arthur very happy. He could envision a future where Charlie joined the Ministry after Hogwarts, preferably in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, and took over from Arthur when the latter retired.

"No, son, that's not why this trip is so special."

Charlie adopted a disappointed look, and Bill took the opportunity to answer.

"Because we get to make Ginny a real Weasley."

Arthur wasn't surprised that Bill gave the answer he did—he had been very protective of his little sister, and was old enough to understand the whole situation. Arthur hoped that the love shown to the little lost girl would continue to grow, and that there would never be any question that she belonged to them.

Fred and George exchanged a look of confusion, then turned to face their father.

"But, Daddy, isn't--", Fred started.

"--Ginny _already_--", George continued.

"--our sister?" they both finished.

Molly took it upon herself to answer the question. "Of course she is. Ever since we found her in the woods, she's been a member of this family, and your sister. But we need to make sure that the Ministry knows it too."

The twins thought about this for a bit, then nodded, in unison. "Okay," they agreed.

Percy, who was almost six, already considered himself knowledgeable about many things. "You mean, we have to do a 'doption, right?"

Arthur took a moment to wonder where Percy had heard about adoptions, and then answered him. "Right you are, and our appointment is very soon, so we need to get going. Bill, please take Ginny with you. The Floo address is 'Ministry of Magic Atrium'."

Bill stepped forward, took Ginny's hand, and reached for the bowl of Floo powder on the mantel. With a flare of green flames, they were gone.

"Okay, Charlie, you and Percy can go now."

The two in question stepped into the flames and were gone in a flash.

"Fred, George, you're coming with me." Arthur and Molly had decided long ago that they would take turns shepherding the two troublemakers, to even out the frustration, and it was his day. He just hoped they'd be somewhat more restrained than usual while they were performing the adoption ceremony, but mentally prepared himself for the worst. At least he hadn't been on Twin Duty the day they went to Diagon Alley last Fall, when the two had escaped from Molly's grasp and knocked over the barrel of newts' eyes—that was quite the mess!

Molly came last, carefully holding onto Ronnie, who didn't like Flooing. He was always nauseated afterwards, although the vomiting had become much less of a problem since he'd turned two that Spring.

oooooooooo

After regrouping in the Ministry Atrium, Arthur led his family down the rickety elevator to the 11th floor. Most witches and wizards thought the Ministry only had ten floors, but down here was where the departments that weren't as popular or well-staffed were located. It was certainly much different from, for example, the second floor, where such busy offices as the Department of Pureblood Lineage were located. It was so popular, given the unhealthy fascination with genealogy that most wizards had, that many Ministry employees expected it to move up to the first floor soon. But Arthur was just as happy to be going to a less-well-known area—in spite of their search for Ginny's birth parents, he had been able to keep their new addition relatively private, and hoped to continue to do so. The fact was that adoption was rather rare among magical folks, after all, who would want to have anyone besides a full-blooded heir in their family? This narrow-mindedness worked in his favor here.

Arthur didn't know why the departments shifted around so much—it almost seemed like the Ministry itself was constantly rearranging the areas so that the most important were closer to the top. He was just grateful that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department hadn't been changed in awhile—it added a certain touch of excitement to everyone's morning, listening to the voice announce what department was on which level, but as far as he was concerned, he was very happy to not have to play that guessing game.

Right as the clock was striking ten, they walked through the door of the Department of Family Relations. There was a scratched desk, with a nameplate that said "Violet Beauregard". The elderly witch behind the desk, who had a slight blue tinge to her features, looked up at them, and smiled.

"Welcome, Arthur, Molly. I'm glad to see you here today. I almost had to cancel our appointment, due to a cough, but I knew how much you've been wanting this, so I came in anyway." She turned to the side and spent about five minutes coughing into a handkerchief. The Weasley parents looked at each other uncomfortably at this display of poor health, wondering if there was something they needed to do. The younger children were fascinated at the pictures on the back wall, showing happy families, while the older boys were more interested in the coughing fit, seeing as the handkerchief the witch was using was turning more and more blue as she coughed.

Charlie sidled over to Bill. "Five knuts says she dies right here in front of us."

Bill grimaced, thought about it for a second, and agreed to the wager.

Eventually the coughing stopped, and the lady turned to look at them. "Okay, let's get started on this wonderful event. Now, you've opted to do a magical adoption, as well as the official Ministry one, is that correct?"

Arthur nodded emphatically. "Most definitely."

"Okay then, you know what this will involve, right?"

Molly looked at the elderly Miss Beauregard and said, "Just a drop of blood from Arthur and me, and one from Ginny, right?"

Violet smiled and said, "Almost. Those are the most important ingredients, yes, but there is one other. You see, as you do a magical adoption, the child in question actually takes on characteristics of the family. The extent to which Ginny will become a true Weasley depends on how much love there is from the parents and siblings, if any. If it's just an arranged adoption to secure a blood-line, then it's highly likely that there will be no change at all. But if the family really loves the child, and the child, in return, loves the prospective parents, then some of the features might change."

Arthur looked at Molly with a hopeful glint in his eye. "Just think, Molly, she could actually _look _like a Weasley too!" The happiness in his voice was apparent to all, and Molly returned his smile.

"Well then," Molly said, turning to Violet. "Let's get started then, we've wasted enough time."

Violet smiled upon seeing the Weasleys' happiness, and said, "If you think that there is enough love in the family-"

Molly interrupted her. "Of course there is! We couldn't love her more if she were our own flesh and blood."

Violet smiled again, and continued. "Good, then I'll be able to use the alternate spell, which is a stronger linkage."

Arthur was evidently very pleased, judging by the width of his smile. "That's wonderful then, isn't it? We certainly want to make sure she's ours." Then a thought struck him. "What kind of link will she have with her birth parents if we do this? We love her, and want her to be ours, but if we ever find her real parents we want her to be able to feel a kinship with them too."

"That's a very good question, Arthur, thanks for bringing that up. The adoption spell doesn't erase the previous family characteristics. What it does instead is meld the new family traits with the old one's. Well, I suppose that's only partially true. The magic will recognize if the child was, for example, abandoned, and in that type of situation, will actually overwrite the previous family blood. In a situation where the child wasn't given up, or abandoned, then there would probably be no ill will between the child and the birth parents, and the melding would happen. If this is the case with Ginevra, then she will end up as a mixture of the two bloodlines. But there's really no guarantee as to which traits she will take from which family."

Arthur gave a sigh, and said, "Okay, then, let's do it!"

Violet agreed, then reached down into one of the desk drawers and brought out a stone bowl. It was small, but densely covered with runes, and had a black liquid in the bottom. She then produced a silver knife, and gestured for the two adults to come forward.

"Okay, the first thing to do is get a drop of blood from the father. Arthur, will you please give me your right hand?"

Mr. Weasley extended his hand, and Violet took it gently in hers. "As this father will love and protect this child, let her be a daughter to this man." She pricked his index finger, and let one drop of blood fall into the stone basin. "Thank you, Arthur. Now, Molly, your turn."

Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and extended her right hand. "As this mother will nurture and cherish this child, let her be a daughter to this woman." Another prick and a drop of blood fell into the basin. As Molly's blood joined Arthur's, they turned a smokey grey color.

"Okay, now bring the young girl forward," Violet requested.

"Ginny, my dear, can you come here please?" Molly asked. Ginny looked up at her mum, and obediently walked up to the old desk. "Now, Ginny, this nice lady is going to need to prick your finger. It'll hurt just a little bit, and then I'll make it feel better, okay?"

Ginny nodded and put her hand forward. Violet took the proffered hand, and said, "As this daughter loves this man and this woman, and wants to be with them, let them be parents to her." A third prick of the silver knife, and a quiet sniff from Ginny, and a third drop of blood fell into the basin. The color of the joined drops turned to a bright gold. Molly immediately waved her wand over the little girl's hand, healing the finger quietly.

"Through the power of Magic, and the desire of the participants, I hereby invoke the Joining Ritual to make this child, Ginevra Molly, a full member of the Weasley family, as a daughter of Arthur and Molly, and sister to William, Charles, Percy, Frederick, George and Ronald."

As the elderly lady finished the words, two magical things happened. First, in the small office at the Ministry of Magic, where the Weasley family was adopting a little girl, a light came out of the golden liquid that illuminated the room. It was brightest right around the basin, but Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys were glowing with the same light. After a minute or two, the light faded, allowing the occupants to see themselves once again. Arthur and Molly looked at each other and smiled, then looked at Ginny. As one, they gasped, and tears came to their eyes. For in front of them was a red-headed girl that looked every bit a Weasley. Her eyes were brown, as the majority of the Weasleys' throughout the ages had been, and she had a liberal scattering of freckles across her pale face. The smile on her face was dazzling to behold, as she felt something indefinable that indicated to her that she finally belonged completely to this wonderful family.

The second magical occurrence happened quite a long distance from London, inside the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Register of Magical Children for England, a thick, highly magical book that tracked children from birth 'til their turning eleven, and thereby becoming eligible to attend the previously-mentioned school, glowed a bright yellow. Inside it, two lines of writing squeezed apart, to allow a new line to inscribe itself. That new line read: _Ginevra Molly Weasley, born August 11, 1980. To start September 1st, 1991_. Curiously, the entry just above that, that had been shifted up slightly, read: _Harry James Potter, born July 31, 1980. To start September 1st, 1991_. The curious thing about it was not the contents, but rather the fact that this line had a thick black mark through it, as though it was no longer valid. In contrast to the happenings in the Department of Family Relations, no-one took any notice of this second happening, since the Headmaster was away at the moment, arranging for a new shipment of jelly beans to be delivered to his office, and the portraits that lined the walls were all empty, their occupants having gathered for a party in the North Tower.

The Weasley boys, who had been observing the adoption ceremony silently, a feat that had been widely regarded as an impossibility, looked on in awe as they took in the new look of their little sister. They didn't completely understand what had happened, although Bill and Charlie understood enough, but something inside of them recognized that even though she looked quite different, this was still their little sister.

Fred said it best, perhaps. "Ginny is bootiful, Mama!"

George, not to be outdone, added, "She looks like us!"

Bill and Charlie agreed, and even Percy smiled at the new Ginny.

Ronnie just looked at her, with his finger in his mouth. After a bit, he said, "Mama? Dat Ginny?"

Molly bent down to look into her son's face, and said, "Yes, Ronnie, that's Ginny."

Ronnie looked at her a little longer, said, "Okay", and turned to look at the moving pictures on the back wall again.

Arthur and Molly were very pleased that their children weren't too confused by the changes in their little sister, and happy that they had accepted her with no fuss.

"Violet, thank you so much for helping us with this. This has made us happier than we've been in a while." Arthur was beaming so wide that he almost couldn't get the words out. Molly was reduced to tears of happiness, and just nodded along.

Arthur got a thoughtful look on his face and motioned Violet towards him. "Violet, it's probably a good idea if news of this didn't become too public, if you know what I mean. I know that You-Know-Who has been defeated, but there are still some people out there who will take any opportunity to slight our name. After awhile it'll be common knowledge that the Weasleys have seven children, six boys and a girl, and no-one will think to ask about how we got her."

Violet nodded her understanding, and said, "I understand completely, Arthur. I will file these papers as soon as I can. Of course, I _am_ feeling somewhat under the weather, and there's no telling whether or not I'll be in tomorrow."

Arthur chuckled under his breath, and patted Violet on the shoulder. "Thanks, Violet, I appreciate all your help."

As Arthur was talking to Violet, Molly was gathering the children together so they could leave. "Okay, did anyone leave anything behind? Ronnie, do you have your Quaffle? Charlie, Percy, come along. Bill, can you bring the twins?" Arthur picked up his newest child, and with a flurry of farewells to the slight old lady, the Weasleys headed out.

The family took another long elevator ride, where Bill and Charlie stood in the back, discussing something under their breath. Charlie finally agreed with whatever Bill was saying, and a there was a suspicious clinking sound as Charlie handed something to his big brother. Eventually, they came out into the Atrium. The younger boys begged to go see the Fountain of Magical Brethren, so the adults walked over there with them. This proved to be a less-than-auspicious expedition, as they encountered Lucius Malfoy on the way.

"Arthur," Lucius greeted him, the disdain clear in his tones.

"Lucius," Arthur responded politely, although somewhat coldly.

"I see that you decided to take your children on a grand excursion today--to show them where you fulfill your incredibly important role." Lucius' tone was, as always, snidely polite.

Arthur tensed up, but Molly's hand on his arm kept him from exploding.

"And I suppose you're here hobnobbing with the politicians that believed your claim about the Imperius Curse?"

At this Lucius' face took on an althogether unattractive glower. "Of course they believed me, it was true!" Visibly grappling with his temper, he took a deep breath and changed the subject. After all, it wouldn't do to get into a duel with a Ministry official, however much of a laughingstock this particular official was, in the middle of the Atrium. Casting about for a different subject to hopefully insult the Weasleys with, he took note of all the children. "My, my, Arthur, seven children. Are you sure you should have had so many? After all, it takes a lot of money to feed that many, and then to clothe them too. And the girl. . . well, I suppose she can wear hand-me-downs for awhile. But then, you probably won't be getting any more, right?" He cast a quick glance down at Molly's waist before looking back up at the Weasley parents.

Molly was the one getting enraged during this part of the conversation, and it was Arthur's turn to hold her back. Although he really wanted to investigate that last comment of Malfoy's, he felt it was time to take his family away from the poisonous man. "Lucius, as sorry as I am to cut this short, we must be going. Greetings to your wife and her son." And with that, he turned away, hiding a small smile as Lucius caught on to his not-so-veiled insult, and called his children towards the Floo.

After all, after such a wonderful occasion, they definitely needed a party.

oooooooooo

A/N: As always, I must thank my betas, sandyrah and rosiekatriona, without whom this would be much rougher, although probably quicker to be posted.

The line about "staffed by a little old Lady who was usually out on sick leave" is paraphrased from "Glory Road", by Robert Heinlein.

Violet Beauregard, who walked in from off-stage and volunteered, appears courtesy of Roald Dahl, who wrote the fabulous "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."


	4. Chapter 4, Bloodlines

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 4, Bloodlines  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore was happy. This is not to say that there were no regrets in his life--after all, he had lived quite a long time, and seen many things come to pass that he would not have wished for. But, all in all, things seemed to be going well.

He was seated in his regal chair at the teachers' table in the Great Hall, watching the Halloween Feast take place. Doing so caused him to reflect on last year's Halloween, which was a night of great sorrow, but great joy as well. Lily and James Potter had been betrayed by one of their best friends, and murdered by the self-styled Lord Voldemort. But, in trying to continue his horrible work, he had made the mistake of trying to kill young Harry, and that was his undoing. For some unknown reason, the dreaded _Avada Kedavra_ had backfired, and destroyed the mortal body of the evil man. Dumbledore wasn't foolish enough to believe that Voldemort was gone for good, but he welcomed the reprieve.

His thoughts drifted to the poor little boy who had lost his parents. Trying to come up with a reasonable plan for the child on the spot had been rather difficult. His godfather was guilty of having sold out the Potters, his other honorary uncle was a werewolf, and the third possible man had been murdered by the aforementioned godfather. Of course, at the time he hadn't known all that, but he thanked his blind luck for not having placed young Harry with Sirius Black. No, it was all for the best that he'd remembered Lily's Muggle sister, Petunia, and had been able to persuade her to take the boy in.

Minerva had been furious with him for that. He still winced when he remembered the tongue-lashing she'd given him at his supposed poor choice.

"How can you live with yourself having put that poor child with those Muggles? I've been watching them all day, and they are the worst sort! The child is a spoiled, obnoxious ball of lard, and the man is the same thing writ larger! The woman is just the kind of person you'd expect to be peering over hedges trying to get good gossip on other people, then maliciously using it to enhance her own perceived rectitude!" And from there she had gone on to discuss Albus' ancestry, habits of hygiene, and probable future lifestyle, with a vigor and vocabulary that astonished and, frankly, impressed him.

Of course, after only two months of Harry being with the Dursleys, he was able to prove to her that everything was okay. When he had left Harry with the Dursleys, and what a dull-sounding name _that_ was, he had cast a ward around the house, tied to the blood that Petunia had shared with Lily. The ward would protect the occupants of Number 4, Privet Drive, from any witch or wizard who would want to cause harm to Harry. He had also cast a monitoring charm, linked to the beautiful silver Moodoscope on his shelf, that allowed him to easily gauge Harry's happiness level. Even now he liked to sit and watch the silver wheel spin, reeling off the minutes of Harry's happy existence.

He _had _had a bad couple weeks there when it had showed Harry to be rather unhappy, but then it had changed and hadn't shown any inclination to revert back to its previous state. Albus figured that any young child would suffer at least _some_ distress at having their parents taken from them so violently, and having to adjust to a new way of life. But, he seemed to have adapted wonderfully, and that was all the vindication that Albus needed.

Minerva also had castigated him for his lack of foresight, quite vehemently, but he had told her of his backup plans for the boy, and that had served to mollify the volatile Scottish witch, barely. That had been a much less explosive conversation, although he, in a small way, lamented the loss of opportunity to admire her true mastery of the English language.

"But, Albus, what if he continues to be unhappy? What will you do then?"

"Don't worry, Minerva, I have contingencies in place to deal with that. The first is that I happen to know that Arabella Figg lives in the neighborhood of Little Whinging. If young Harry had continued to be unhappy, I would have asked her to keep watch over him, report to me any problems, and try to help him improve his mood."

Minerva had been less than overjoyed at this. "Well, I suppose that's something, but honestly, Albus, she's a Squib! How would she have been able to help if there were any problems?"

"She's on the Floo network, Minerva. She could have called me for help anytime. And besides, I had also planned on adding more wards to the property if necessary. The protection ward that's there isn't really keyed to Harry, but rather to the family blood. There's another ward, harder to implement, but more attuned to Harry--it would have prevented any sort of physical damage to him. But I certainly don't see that as a necessity now, do you?"

Minerva had grimaced and shook her head. "I guess not. I just can't seem to shake this little worry that I have about him. I guess that he'll be okay--I just wish we could have taken him in here."

Albus had smiled gently down at his Transfiguration Professor. "He'll be okay, Minnie, he's happy there." Ignoring the glare she had sent him for the nickname, and her muttered "I am _not_ a mouse", he had continued on. "He'll grow up happy and well-adjusted, and his aunt will be able to explain his bursts of accidental magic. Then, when he turns eleven, we'll visit him, and he'll be so happy to have the opportunity to learn more about magic! And when he comes to Hogwarts he'll be able to fit in beautifully."

Professor McGonagall had looked up at the ceiling, thought about it, and sighed. "Well, I suppose that will have to do. You say he's happy there?"

"Yes, the monitoring charm shows him as being just about as happy as a two-year old can get."

"Did you set up any tracking charms, so we can tell where he is?" Minerva had queried.

"No, Minerva, I didn't see the need. If Harry's loved and cared for, and enjoying life, there's no need to implement them. If I had done so, then I would have been alerted every time he left for school, or went on a vacation. This saves me from the constant interruptions, and allows me to focus more on what's going on in the school."

Shaken from his reverie by a gentle pressure on his arm, he looked to his left, where Professor McGonagall's seat had always been. She indicated to him that it was time for the Halloween Speech, as most of the food had been eaten, and the students had moved into the pudding portion of the meal.

The Headmaster arose, and tapped on his glass. Silence fell amongst the chattering students, and all eyes turned towards him.

"After that excellent repast, I'm sure you are all stuffed, and happy, and ready to head off to your beds. However, I must take a little of your time to share some thoughts. As this is Halloween, we must take a moment to remember the Potters, and the sacrifice that they made for us. Lily and James Potter, two of the brightest students to have graduated from here, and may I say, two of the most entertaining to watch, especially when James would try to ask Lily out, and she'd turn him down. I remember one time--"

He was interrupted by a cough from the stern Deputy Headmistress, and, reminded of where he was, got back on track. "Well, that's not important now. What's important is that we remember that the Potters died protecting their son, so that he could defeat Lord Voldemort." He paused now, for the obligatory gasp as the feared name was said, then continued, "Let us raise our glasses in a toast, to young Harry Potter!"

The assembled students each raised a goblet, most willingly, but a few in obvious reluctance, and chanted, "To Harry Potter!"

oooooooooo

Fleur Delacour ran into her parents bedroom. "Mama, 'arry is not feeling well!"

Giselle looked up from where she was cuddled up next to Pierre. Thankfully, they hadn't been doing anything _too_ scandalous, although Fleur was young enough that she probably wouldn't have noticed even if they had been.

"What's the matter with him, ma cherie?"

"He just threw up in his bed." Fleur wrinkled her pretty nose at this statement. "And it smells awful!"

Giselle sighed in resignation, kissed Pierre on the cheek, and started to get out of bed. "Okay, Fleur, I'll come take care of it. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Well, he's a really pretty orange too, but mostly he's just standing there looking sad. I tried to give him a hug, but he didn't even want me to do that. What's wrong with him?"

"It sounds like he's got poxie flu, sweetie. You've already had it, so you probably won't get sick."

"Will he be better soon? I don't want him to feel so bad."

"Yes, dear, we'll take him to the Healer and she'll give him a potion, and he'll be just fine tomorrow."

"Good," was Fleur's determined response. "I want to play Popscotch with him." The little girl turned to her father, and started trying to persuade him to get out of bed and make her breakfast, while Giselle went off to clean up the little boy.

As she Vanished the puddle of sick, and started taking his fouled clothes off of him, she reflected on how much this one little boy had brightened up their lives. She had been afraid, when they had rescued him, that he would continue to be quiet, depressed, and cold towards everyone, but the opposite was true. He had won Giselle's heart completely, and Pierre was no different. After only a few days of his living with them, he had shown a noticeable increase in the number of smiles he showed them. Pretty soon thereafter, the sounds of children's laughter started to become commonplace, as he played with their older daughter, Fleur.

Fleur herself was another convert. She had been, initially, rather standoffish to the young boy. But just as his bright green eyes had worked their magic on her parents, she had come to love him as the little brother that she had never known she wanted. It was a very common sight, now, to see them cuddled up together on the sofa, where Fleur would be reading Harry a book.

She still felt a pain in her heart for her little lost girl, but the Investigators hadn't been able to find hide nor hair of a little blonde girl of the right age, no matter how hard they looked, and they were starting to lose hope. Pierre was unwilling to call off the search, of course, and since they didn't lack for money, the firm that they had employed was certainly willing to continue looking. But as time had gone on, they had come closer to resigning themselves to the loss.

"Harry, would you like to take a bath?" she asked. She didn't want to _Scourgify_ the little boy—that cleaning spell was rather harsh for his soft skin, and she knew that he loved playing in the tub.

"Oui, Mama! Play with mermen?"

It was interesting to see how rapidly he was picking up the occasional French word. The whole Delacour family was completely fluent in both English and French, which meant that they were interspersed quite randomly in their conversations. Harry didn't seem to notice a difference between the two languages; probably, Giselle thought, due to his young age.

"Of course you can, my dear. They're there to have fun with, after all."

Pulling out her wand and whispering a quick spell, she heard the water start to run into the bathtub.

"Come on, then, let's get you in there and make sure you get all cleaned up."

"Okay, Mama!" he agreed happily.

Every time she heard him call her Mama, a curious feeling swept through her. She knew that he wasn't really hers, but since, according to him, his parents had died, she didn't feel bad about taking him in. But did she really want him to think of her as his mother? She had wrestled with this same question for quite some time. It wasn't out of the question that she and Pierre should have another child, but since Veela offspring usually ran to females, it wasn't very likely that they'd have a boy. All in all, she decided, she liked the situation, and that maybe there was more that could be done to make him her child.

"You swim down, and you be wescued," Harry was explaining the rules of his game to his toys, and Giselle spent a minute considering whether there really was a down side to adopting the boy. Obviously his former guardians didn't care for him, not anywhere close to what she and Pierre felt for him. And they had scanned the papers, both the French "Le Maison Magique" and the pathetic English "Daily Prophet", for notices about lost children. Of course, they had been on high alert for mention of a little blonde girl being found, but they also looked for any reports on a missing black-haired boy, with a curious lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. For almost a year, they hadn't been able to find any mention of the wonderful child whom they had taken from his abusive home environment.

Coming to a conclusion, she resolved to broach the subject with Pierre as soon as he came home from the Consulate that evening. There was no reason to not make him an official part of the family, and they should start the proceedings at once.

oooooooooo

"Madame Delacour, you didn't tell me you had another child!" The Healer was well-acquainted with the Delacour family, having taken care of them for what seemed like forever. She had been Giselle's Healer when she was a child, and had taken on Pierre and Fleur as they had joined the family. With the accustomed pang in her heart, Giselle remembered that she had helped deliver Madeline too, but pushed that thought aside with a long practiced mental shake.

"Well, let me tell you how that happened. . ."

After hearing the complete story, Madame Etchechury shook her head and sighed. "And have you heard anything about Madeline? Is she still missing?"

Giselle didn't answer, but the look in her eyes was enough.

"I'm so sorry for you and Pierre. How are you holding up?"

"It's hard, at times, but with little Harry here to take care of, I find that I can keep the heartache at bay most of the time."

"His name's Harry?" Madame Etchechury got a thoughtful look on her face, and reached over to where Harry was sitting next to Fleur, quietly looking at yet another picture book. "Harry, can I look at your head, please?"

Harry ducked down shyly behind Fleur and peered out at the strange woman. Fleur giggled, and turned to Harry.

"Come on now, Harry. She just wants to see your mark. You let me look at it all the time; you need to let the nice Healer see it too."

Harry though about it for a bit, then reached up and moved his fringe out of the way so that the Healer could see the lightning bolt mark clearly.

A look of recognition passed over her face, and she stood back up and motioned for Giselle to follow her over to a corner of the room.

"Giselle, do you know who this is?" she asked, in a completely atypical, breathless way that surprised the other woman.

"No, just that his name is Harry, and his parents died." Giselle was concerned—what if they found out that little Harry needed to be returned to some unspecified person? Visions of having to give him up into the care of yet more abusive relatives flashed across her mind, and her stomach twisted itself into knots.

"Well, I can't be sure, but I think it's Harry Potter! The scar matches what I've heard about him, and the ages seem to be close. You could do a blood-line check, if you want, although that can be rather expensive."

Giselle was stunned. How could they not have figured that out? She looked at her friend with wide eyes, and couldn't think of a thing to say. Finally, she managed to choke out, "I think you might be right. How could we have missed that?"

"Oh, Giselle dear, you've been rather distracted. He only became famous after you lost little Madeline, and you were understandably preoccupied with that. But, what are you going to do? Are you going to find out for sure?"

Giselle didn't know what to think. This rather threw a spanner into her plans of adopting the little boy. Little Harry Potter was known far and wide as The-Boy-Who-Lived, the one who had defeated Voldemort. Even in France, where news of the disquiet caused by that horrible man was muted and distant, people would be able to discover the truth, if they searched hard enough and kept their eyes open.

"Lydia, I need you to keep this quiet for me. Can you do that?"

The Healer nodded. "Of course, Healer-Patient confidentiality certainly covers this situation, but I'm not the only one who will come to the same conclusion."

"Well, there's some things we can do, but I need to discuss them with Pierre before we make any plans. Merlin, we have to go home—we can't let anyone see him until we make some decisions."

She turned to her daughter. "Fleur, pack up your things, we have to go home!"

Fleur, a little taken aback at this uncharacteristically flustered behavior from her mother, started to put her book back in her bag, but then she thought of something. "Mama, did the Healer fix Harry so he won't be sick anymore?"

Giselle hadn't even remembered their reason for visiting the Healer. "Merlin, no! How could I have forgotten that?" She turned to Madame Etchechury, and started to tell her what had happened, but was interrupted.

"Don't worry Giselle, the bright orange skin is rather hard to miss, and he's been vomiting in the night, right?" At Giselle's nod, Lydia continued. "Well, it's a typical case of poxie flu, but you probably already knew that. He just needs to take one dose of this potion now," she turned to a cabinet on the wall and extracted a phial from it. She poured out a dose of the bright yellow liquid into a goblet and handed it to Giselle. "And one more dose tomorrow morning, and he'll be just fine." She handed the phial, with the rest of the potion, to Giselle, and gave her a bright smile. "Now, go home and discuss your little boy with Pierre, and give him my best wishes, okay?"

After handing the goblet to Harry, and helping him swallow down the contents, Giselle thanked her friend and gathered up her children and their toys. She had managed to calm down a bit, so was able to use a packing charm to fit everything into the pink bag that Fleur had brought.

"Thanks, Lydia, I'll let you know what happens, okay?" And with that, the three left the office, to head back to the Delacour estate.

oooooooooo

"_The_ Harry Potter? She thinks _he's_ the Boy-Who-Lived?" Pierre had a rather higher pitch to his voice than normal, and Giselle was tempted to tease him about it, but figured that he wouldn't appreciate her attempt at humor right then.

"Yes, she looked at the scar, and told me that the ages matched. She mentioned something about a blood-line check, but said that it was rather expensive."

"I don't care about the money, Giselle, you know that. But we need to make sure that we can do this in the strictest confidentiality. Where can we go for this test?" Pierre seemed excited about the idea that they might be harboring the famous Harry Potter. Giselle hoped that his excitement didn't eclipse the need to continue to act as his parents, but wasn't too worried. He really was a wonderful man—she thanked her lucky stars that her Veela Bonding Drive had brought her to him, someone who was so kind and thoughtful, rather than to an arrogant prat, like the one her sister had almost Bonded with.

"Gringotts has a strict confidentiality policy—you know they're the soul of discretion, dear. And if they don't have the facilities to do a test like this, although I can't see why they wouldn't, they could certainly recommend someone else. We can go into Paris tomorrow to the bank and get this all taken care of. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, dear, that sounds great! Oh, I hope we can find out who our wonderful Harry is. And," he got a thoughtful look on his face, "it doesn't really matter, does it? Even if he's not really Harry Potter, we will love him just as much, right?"

"Ah, there's the man I know and love. I'm glad I married you."

"Yeah, like you had a choice, my sweetheart." Pierre smirked at his good fortune in having been the Mate intended for this beautiful woman. He knew that he was lucky beyond measure that she had fallen in love with him. He, of course, had noticed her when they were attending school together, but although he thought she was very pretty, he didn't seem to be as distracted by her as the other boys did. Honestly, some of them spent their days thinking of all sorts of outlandish ways to draw her attention. He had given up any thoughts of even talking to her, but then, one day, she sat down by him at dinner, and struck up a conversation with him. The rest, as they say, was Fate. After getting to know her, he found himself head-over-heels in love with this beautiful creature, and hardly able to believe it when she confessed that she loved him back.

Drawn out of his reverie by a most unladylike snort from his wife, he looked at her questioningly.

"Oh, you forget, dear heart, that I _did_ have a choice. I could have refused my Bonding drive, and made a life for myself, just like my sister has done. I'm just so happy that I didn't have to do that; I know Marie isn't very happy being alone like she is. Of course, it's better than being married to that cretin that her Drive selected for her."

"Well, be that as it may, we should be getting the children to bed. I want to go as early in the morning as possible, so that there's less chance of interference from anyone else."

Giselle looked at her husband, thought a bit, and put on a sultry smile. "Are you _absolutely_ sure you want to go to bed now?"

Pierre glanced at his wife, then looked again, and smiled. "Of course, dear. But I never said I wanted to sleep."

oooooooooo

The next morning, Harry came running into the Delacours' bedroom. "Mama, Papa, I no fro up!" He was obviously very excited about this accomplishment, and Giselle breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently the potion was doing its job.

"That's wonderful, darling! We still have one more dose of potion, though."

"Okay, Mama. Tastes good!"

"I'm glad, dear, potions _should_ taste good. Otherwise it's too hard to drink them." Picking up her wand, she waved it and said, "Accio Harry's potion!" A clinking sound came from the bathroom, where the phial was, and soon it came flying into the bedroom, where it landed neatly in Giselle's hand. "Okay, Harry, open up!"

Harry obediently opened his mouth, and Giselle tipped the last of the potion into it. Harry gulped, and smiled. "Bekfast, Mama?"

"Yes, Harry, it's time for breakfast, but you forgot what day it is."

Harry scrunched up his face, then smiled up at her. "Saturday?" He questioned.

"Yes, it's Saturday. What does that mean?"

Harry thought for a while, then looked up beaming. "Daddy home!" he yelled.

Pierre, who had been lying there listening to the interchange, sat up, beaming at the boy's obvious joy. "That's right, Harry, I get to spend the day with my family! And today is extra-special. Do you want to know why?"

Harry jumped into the bed, Giselle hurriedly moving her legs so he'd have a soft place to land, and clambered over to where Pierre was sitting. "Yes, Papa."

"We get to go visit Gringotts."

The little boy's face registered confusion. "What's G'ingotts, Papa?"

"Do you remember the really big white building, where the goblins are?" They had taken Harry with them the last time they had gone, and he had been very impressed with the goblins. A little frightened, of course, but, since they were very close to his height, he was fascinated.

"Yay, goblins! And get money?"

"Yes, Harry," Pierre answered, "we'll need to get some money too. There's another thing we need to do while we're there. We are going to talk to one of the goblins and find out your name."

"Me Harry!" The indignant look on his face was rather comical, and Giselle had to turn away quickly so he wouldn't see her snickering.

"Yes, you are Harry. But we want to know who your parents were too. Don't worry about it, Harry. This is just something we need to do so we can help you grow up and be a big boy."

Satisfied with that answer, Harry turned his attention to other things. "Mama, me get Fleur up?"

Giselle nodded her permission, and watched in amusement as the little black-haired boy, who had so worked his way into their hearts and lives, jumped off the bed and raced from the room, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"Fleur, Fleur, get up! We go G'ingotts! Get up!"

Turning to her husband, she leaned over and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. "Thanks again for being so wonderful, my love. Thanks for letting us take care of Harry."

Pierre put his arms around his beautiful wife, and sighed. "I'm glad we took him in, sweetheart. He needed someone to love him, and we needed someone to love."

Both of their faces showed a flash of pain as they were reminded, as always, of their poor missing Madeline. With an effort, Giselle changed the subject. "What will we do if he really _is_ Harry Potter? Should we still adopt him?"

Pierre grimaced. "I don't think we should, Giselle. If we do, then the Ministry will have to record it, and you know those idiotic reporters keep nosing around there, trying to come up with something newsworthy. If he isn't the real Harry Potter, then no-one will care, but if he really is, then we need to ensure he remains anonymous. I'm sure there are other steps that we'll need to take to ensure his safety if it turns out that he really is the Boy-Who-Lived, but we can worry about that if and when it happens. For now, let's just enjoy the day with our children."

"Well, okay then. Let's get to the kitchen before Harry and Fleur convince the house-elves that they really _are_ supposed to have ice cream for breakfast."

oooooooooo

Gringotts Paris was a rather imposing building. It was white marble, as were all the Gringotts branches, but the architectural style was more reminiscent of a fairy-tale castle, than the staid office-building look of the London edifice. Fleur loved the building, and imagined that it was filled with princesses and kings and gold and jewels and crowns and ladies-in-waiting. She was partially right, at least about the more valuable items, but had never gotten to see any princesses. She _had_ seen some beautifully-dressed women that she believed had been ladies-in-waiting, but had never seen anybody wearing a tiara, or a crown, or anyone resembling what she thought royalty should look like. But, that never impeded her curiosity. And now that she had a little brother to share it with, and he was getting old enough to participate in her games, she was even more excited for the trip. Maybe they'd get to go down to their vault and see the huge pile of gold and silver that dominated the large room.

Harry walked in holding Giselle's hand, head swiveling back and forth as he inspected the goblin guards stationed by the front door. Once inside, he sidled closer to his Mama, slightly nervous at the bustling crowds. Fleur came up beside him and took his other hand, for which he was exceedingly grateful. He loved his big sister, and had no doubts that she loved him back.

This visit, however, was a lot different than the previous times they'd been able to come. Instead of going to a cart and riding down to the vault, they were ushered back through a rich oaken door, down a hallway with subdued lighting and magnificent portraits of past goblin leaders, and to a door. On the door was a nameplate that read, _Gaptooth, Head of Lineage._

"Fleur," Harry whispered. "What's that?" He pointed at the gold nameplate.

Fleur, who was just beginning to read, peered up at the door, and started to sound out the letters. "G, a, p, t, oo, th. . . _Gaptooth_. I think that is the goblin's name that we're going to see. _Head_, I know that word. It means he has a big head, 'cause he's so important. _Of line age_. That means he's the goblin in charge of telling us how old lines are." She was very happy to be able to show off like this in front of her little brother.

Harry looked at Fleur in confusion. He had understood about the big head, but the rest of it was rather less clear to him. But, he decided, that didn't matter. He trusted Pierre and Giselle with all his heart, and knew that whatever they were doing was important for them, otherwise they wouldn't have brought the whole family.

The door swung open, and they heard a gravelly voice issue from inside the somber office. "Come in, Madame and Monsieur Delacour. I have been expecting you."

Pierre and Giselle looked nervously at each other, tightened their grip on their children, and slowly stepped inside the office. Sitting behind a large desk was the biggest goblin Harry had ever seen; bigger even than the guards outside the front door. Harry looked at his head, but was disappointed to see that it wasn't as big as he was expecting. In fact, it looked rather normal for that size of body. But before he could tell Fleur how wrong she had been, Pierre spoke up.

"Forgive me, Monsieur Gaptooth, but why have you been expecting us?"

"Please, Monsieur Delacour, call me Gaptooth. There is no need for a title for me. As to your question, let me tell you about goblins. First, you must know that we keep a close eye on anything that might affect our biggest depositors. We feel that we have a duty to be informed of any eventualities that might cause them harm, or make them have to withdraw their money, or interfere with their lives in a, shall we say--less than pleasant way. As such, we have been keeping a close eye on the search for your missing daughter, for which you have my condolences. I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I know that I would sorely miss the presence of my little Snifflehump if she were to go missing."

As always, the Delacours became rather pensive at this reminder of their misfortune, but before they sank too far into the morass of their thoughts, Gaptooth continued.

"Now, we have also been informed of your acquisition of a new member of the family. As we had had no indication that Madame has been in a family way, we made some discreet inquiries. We found out that you had, in some manner, become the de facto guardians of a little boy, about the same age as your missing daughter, who looked rather similar to the Potter heir."

Astounded at the knowledge that the goblins seemed to have acquired with such relative ease, the Delacours held a silent conversation with their eyes. Pierre turned to the goblin and asked, "How many people know of this?"

Gaptooth smiled, although it didn't convey quite the feeling of reassurance that he had hoped, as little Harry gasped and shrank behind Giselle. His grasp of Fleur's hand also tightened enough that she let out a little yelp.

"Monsieur Delacour," the goblin continued, "please understand that we at Gringotts take our client confidentiality very seriously. Obviously, taking in a little boy carries with it some risks on your part, and we would never think of exacerbating the problem by sharing this with anyone not concerned with your well-being. I, being the Head of Lineage of Gringotts Paris, of necessity needed to know this, and your account manager, Dryrott, knows of this too. No-one else has been permitted to keep this information. Now, what can I do for you? Might you have come here seeking confirmation of the identity of this child?"

Shuddering at the implications of the goblin's penultimate statement, Giselle looked up at Gaptooth. "Yes please. We have heard of a blood-line check, but weren't sure where we could have it done. We had hoped that maybe Gringotts had facilities to do so."

At this last implied question, Gaptooth smiled again, provoking another gasp from both Harry and Fleur. "Of course we can do that. We wouldn't be a very trustworthy bank if we didn't have a way of verifying identity, even for orphans and wayward black sheep. Now, the cost to do this is 13,200 galleons. Shall we transfer this out of your account? Or did you wish to pay some other way?"

Pierre shook his head and said, "No, just take it out of the account; I don't usually carry that much with me."

Gaptooth lifted an old-fashioned telephone handset, spoke a couple of sentences in quick Gobbledegook, and then looked back to the Delacours. "Very well, let us go to the Testing Lab, and we will see if our suspicions are true."

Unfortunately for Fleur, who enjoyed the cart ride almost as much as Princess-Hunting, this trip was very short, and consisted of a short walk down the hall.

Inside the Testing Lab, a short and exceedingly skinny goblin, dressed in a long white coat, came over to the group. "Well, where is this child?" he asked, in a somewhat nasal tone, with overtones of a Spanish accent. "The potion and parchment are already prepared, and we need to get this done before the potency expires."

Pierre squatted down next to Harry, and lifted him into his arms. "Harry, we're going to follow this goblin, is that okay?" Harry just nodded his head at that, and they all walked over to a table on which rested a stone basin with an oily pink liquid in it, and a large sheet of parchment, which was glowing a pale yellow.

"Give me the boy's hand," the goblin brusquely directed.

"Can you please explain what is involved in the test?" Giselle asked. She was the picture of propriety, but a steely note in her voice indicated that she wasn't pleased with the rudeness of the goblin in the lab coat.

The skinny goblin snarled slightly but Gaptooth stepped forward. "Bunsen, I'll take full responsibility if the potion goes bad. Now please, remember whom you are talking to, and explain the procedure."

Chastened, Bunsen looked apologetically towards the adults, and started to explain. "We need to collect two drops of blood from the person in question. This blood will be mixed into the Lineage Potion. After it turns white, I will place five drops onto one end of this piece of parchment. The magic in the parchment will interact with the potion, and will draw out the family tree of the named individual. The tree will extend back as far as the first appearance of the given individual's surname. Do you have any questions?"

Pierre looked at his wife, then turned back to the goblin. "What do you do with the parchment when the testing is over?"

Gaptooth interrupted Bunsen at this point, and said, "That is yours to do with what you want. I would suggest storing it in your vault, if our suspicions are correct, so that you have incontrovertible proof of lineage. This way it'll be safe from prying eyes, and when the boy is old enough, you can show him who he is."

Giselle was pleased that the procedure wouldn't be an ordeal for Harry, but realized she needed to let him know what to expect. "Harry, dear, this nice goblin--"

Pierre snorted at this, and tried to cover this by faking a cough. Thankfully Bunsen hadn't heard, and Gaptooth just smirked.

"--needs to poke your finger just a bit. It'll hurt a little, but as soon as it's over, I'll make it all better. Okay?"

The look on Harry's face indicated that he wasn't too sure it was really okay, but he trusted his Mama, so he held out his hand.

Bunsen grabbed the finger, and in a quick motion, pricked it with a silver needle. Squeezing out two drops of blood into the basin, he let Harry's hand go, and started stirring the potion, while saying what sounded like an incantation in Gobbledegook.

Giselle took her wand and pointed it at Harry's finger. Casting a small healing charm took care of the pricked finger and a mild water spell cleaned off the blood.

"Mama, have a bandage?" Harry asked.

"Of course, dear, you may have a bandage for your finger. What kind do you want? Vampires or Centaurs?"

Harry thought hard for a moment, and then said, "Bampires, 'cause dey like blood."

Fleur looked disappointed—she always chose centaurs, 'cause they were like horses. But the last time she had tried to get Harry to choose what _she_ had wanted had precipitated a rather violent screaming match, and an accidental magic burst that had turned her hair purple.

Bunsen had finally ceased the incantation, and the fluid was showing clouds of white mixed in with the pink. As they all watched, the clouds became bigger and bigger, until finally there was no pink at all in the basin. Bunsen siphoned out a small amount of the liquid and very meticulously placed five drops onto the parchment. As the last drop landed, the parchment flashed a brilliant white, and black letters and lines started to form.

This was the moment they had all been waiting for. Pierre and Giselle bent over the letters, anxious to find out who this little black-haired child was. Slowly, more and more letters appeared, until the name was visible in all its glory: Harry James Potter, b. 31 July, 1980.

oooooooooo

"Well, I guess that's that, then. We can't adopt him." Giselle was almost crying at the perceived loss. She had tried not to get her hopes up, but couldn't help wanting to have little Harry as part of the family legally, as well as in love.

The family had decided to go to McMerlin's for lunch. The children loved going there, because they catered to families with children, and had a magical play structure. Part of it contained a castle, with a dragon that would breath smoke at them and roar convincingly if they tried to climb the tower it was guarding. Fleur, of course, loved that part, and liked to pretend she was a princess in the top of the tower, and imagine someone rescuing her. Some prince would come along and defeat the dragon and carry her away to his castle, where she could eat as much ice cream as she wanted, and the prince would spend his time playing with her, even if she wanted to play Tea Party.

Harry liked the slides best. There was a set of stairs that changed their configuration depending on who was on them at the time. When Harry climbed them, the risers were spaced very closely, and helped to carry him to the top. When older children played, they became, by turns, rope ladders, the branches of a tree, or even stones in the side of a mountain. The slides themselves were charmed to allow varying speeds of descent. Harry came down gently and smoothly, and stopped at the bottom without ever falling off.

"I know, dear, I'm so sorry." Pierre was rather sad too, but was trying his best to accept the circumstances with a willing heart. "But we can still raise him and love him just as if he were ours. It doesn't matter that he's--" and his voice dropped into a whisper, "--Harry Potter. We'll call him Harry Delacour, and perhaps start doing a glamour charm to cover his scar, since that is rather too noticeable, and nobody will know the difference."

"That's not the only reason I'm sad, Pierre dear. Of course I wanted him for my own, but I also wanted him to be able to have some Veela blood in him. The potential benefits _are_ nice. Even if he just had an avian Animagus form, it would have been a great help him."

Giselle was happy to have been born a Veela, Pierre knew. He himself was just a wizard, albeit one of high standing and magical power, but sometimes he envied her the abilities that she was blessed with. Although, the casting of fireballs from bare hands was something that he hoped never to see again, or at least, not directed at him. His left leg still twinged every time he thought about that horrible evening.

"Well, dearest, I don't know what else we can do. I'm sorry that this dream didn't come true for you, but I'm sure he'll have other wonderful talents that we can help him develop."

Giselle only looked slightly mollified, although he knew it was just because of the freshness of the disappointment. She'd come to accept it like he did, and they'd be able to be happy for the things they _did_ have, rather than perpetually saddened by what was missing.

Soon enough it was time for the family to go, and with a minimum of fussing from Harry, and slightly more from Fleur, they went back to Chateau Delacour.

oooooooooo

The next day, being a Sunday, was really a day of rest for the Delacour family. They usually tried to sleep late, although Harry's addition to the family tended to cut short that time, and breakfast was a leisurely affair, more often than not held in the sunroom. Peti, the house-elf most often tasked with making their meals, had been strictly commanded not to go all out in preparing Sunday breakfast, but often found ways to skirt that restriction, and this was one of those days. Harry, who, from the looks of him, had been up for quite some time, had a face smeared with chocolate from the freshly-made croissants that he loved so much. Fleur, who enjoyed sleeping in, hadn't shown up yet, and Pierre, bless his heart, was still snoring. That left Giselle to spend some quality time with Harry, something that she greatly enjoyed.

Currently, she was trying to figure out what was going on in Harry's head. He kept wrinkling his nose and sneezing. She devoutly hoped he wasn't getting sick again. She didn't mind caring for her children, but admitted to herself that illnesses really affected her. The caring-for wasn't so bad, except for the smells, but seeing her children in such distress was horrible. She felt Harry's head, but he didn't _feel_ warm. She sniffed, experimentally, and detected a faint whiff of a very unpleasant odor--it smelled something like a mixture of dirty socks and the really disgusting kind of mold that grows underneath shower mats that aren't cleaned regularly. But the only reason she could smell it was due to her Veela heritage, so she discounted that as a possibility. Finally, she decided that she'd ask him to see if he could tell her.

"Harry, what's the matter? You keep sneezing. Are you sick?"

"No, Mama, sumting smell bad."

"What does it smell like?" Giselle wondered if he was just reacting strongly to one of the aromas currently wafting in from the kitchen, products of her ever-so-politely uncooperative house-elf.

"My feet!" he proudly proclaimed.

Giselle was shocked. There was only the one odor she had detected that was anywhere close to what Harry had said. But, that would mean. . .

She got up from her seat more rapidly than was usual, managing to bump the table and slosh some tea out onto the saucer. Ignoring the minor spill, she hurried to the office desk where they had placed their copy of Harry's genealogy. It went back for quite a few generations, apparently the Potters were a rather ancient family. She didn't know exactly where to start, nor what to look for, but placed the roll on the floor, truly the only place big enough to hold the whole thing, and started reading names, starting with Harry's grandparents.

An hour later, Pierre, Fleur, and Harry were startled out of their game of gobstones by a most unladylike shriek from the office. Rushing in, afraid of what he might find, he was certainly unprepared for the sight that was presented to him. His beautiful, calm, regal, elegant, and oh-so-well-mannered wife was dancing in a circle, waving her arms, and laughing.

"Mumpty!" Pierre called for a house-elf, who arrived with a small 'pop'. "Get me a calming draught, I think there's something wrong with my wife."

The poor little house-elf took one look at the Madame and disappeared again.

"Giselle! Giselle, honey, what's wrong?" Pierre was rather worried, as he'd never seen her act this way before. Sure, she had been exceedingly happy each time she had gotten pregnant, and there was, of course, the night they got engaged, which he still remembered _very_ fondly, but this was too much.

"He is! Pierre, he already is!!" Giselle just about shouted this, although even in her heightened state of . . . whatever it was, she managed to not sound too unrefined.

"What?" Pierre couldn't for the life of him figure out what was going on. "Calm down, dear! Mumpty has a calming draught for you, why don't you go ahead and drink it, and then we'll discuss whatever it is that he is, okay?" Unfortunately, he said this in a somewhat patronizing tone, and the look that Giselle shot him made him rather uncomfortably aware of her abilities.

"I do _not_ need a calming draught, _dear_, and I'll thank you to not talk to me like I'm some idiotic teenager!" Thankfully, by this time, she had stopped dancing, and seemed to be a little more in control of her emotions. "Harry, dear, can you come here for a second?" The disparity in the tone of her voice when talking to Harry as opposed to when she had said '_dear_' to Pierre was rather stunning, and served, more than anything else, to impress upon her husband that she was really in full control of her faculties, and that he should be a little more careful in how he treated her, even if she _had_ been capering like a drunken niffler.

Harry, who thought that Mama was just having a good time dancing, ran over to her and jumped into her arms. "Dance wif me, Mama?" he asked, a pleading look on his little face.

"Of course, dear, I'll dance with you, but I need to talk to Papa for a bit first, okay?" Harry nodded his acceptance of this, and squirmed around so he could see Pierre more clearly, obviously looking forward to seeing what they were going to talk about.

"Sit down, Pierre." Giselle's tone of voice had gotten much less icy, but he knew he wasn't fully forgiven for jumping to the wrong conclusion. He sat, quickly, feeling quite lucky that he had managed to sit in a chair--he must remember to thank Mumpty for putting one behind him, as he was sure there hadn't been one there before.

"Now, Pierre, I noticed something interesting with Harry this morning, while you and Fleur were sleeping. Harry complained of smelling something that, he said, smelled like his feet. Now, I could smell the same thing, but it was rather faint, and had come from far away."

Fleur interjected at this point, "Yes, Mama, I smelled it too. It was rather icky, and made the food taste gross. Well, until Mumpty did a spell for us and then it just smelled like roses."

Giselle smiled at her little Veela daughter, and continued her explanation. "Quite so, my dear, and thank you for sharing it with us. Now, as you know, Veela blood enables one to have a very acute sense of smell, much more capable than regular human olfactory senses. So, I came in here and started looking at Harry's genealogy. After all, we really didn't take the time yesterday to examine it in detail."

Pierre was starting to see where this discussion was headed, and was rather excited to find out the final destination. Sure, it wouldn't be the same as magically adopting little Harry, but it _would_ mean yet another link between them. And it gave them another solid reason for taking him from those dreadful Muggles--they never would have been able to understand him if what he suspected was really true.

"Well? Woman, don't make me drag it out of you!" Pierre knew that he didn't have a very good chance at doing anything of the sort, and Giselle was more inclined to laugh at his threats than anything--after all, he didn't really cut an imposing figure. Usually this was a good thing, as it tended to cause his associates to underestimate him, to their detriment, but sometimes it would be nice to look just a little more impressive, and less like a teddy bear.

"He's got Veela blood, Pierre, from his maternal grandmother's line! It's rather far back, seven generations, and I don't know why it's manifesting in him now, but he really is one of us." Giselle could hardly get this last out, she was becoming rather choked up, and her eyes were filling with tears.

"Mama, why crying?" Harry asked.

"I'm just happy, Harry, because I love you so much."

Pierre stood up and walked over to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her, and she lay her head on his shoulder. "Come here, sweetheart," he said to Fleur, beckoning her to join them in the family hug. She did so, and they stood like that for quite some time, at least until Fleur got bored and wormed away from them.

Harry didn't know why his family was crying--he was certainly happy being with them, happier than he could ever remember being. He just accepted it as one of those things--after all, his Mama had told him that she was happy. But he did have one question. "Mama? What a beela?"


	5. Chapter 5, Weasleys Happen

**Birds of a Feather, Chapter 5, Weasleys Happen**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Lucius Malfoy strode into his sitting room in a foul mood. It had not been the best of days for him, and, unfortunately, was just the latest in a string of bad days. The trial, wherein he had been accused of being a Death Eater, had ended, and he had escaped justice, but that didn't mean he came out smelling of roses. There was the inevitable whispering about him that no amount of bribery could quiet, and the upturned noses of other members of the Wizarding community. Of course, some of those who now looked down on him were of no import. The Weasleys, for example, with the myriad children they had now--they were of absolutely no consequence. No matter if they despised him--he despised them right back, and couldn't care less about their opinion. However, there were other, more important, families that were bound to take steps to distance themselves from the Malfoy family, and he couldn't afford that. Some of his plans were sure to be disrupted, and he didn't know exactly how to salvage them. Perhaps more money. . .

Later that evening, Lucius was to be found drinking in the drawing room, taking out his frustrations in his normal manner--sitting by the fireplace complaining to his wife, Narcissa.

". . . that idiot Dumbledore. I can not believe he is still the Chief Warlock! His muggle-loving ways should have gotten him sacked long ago. Imagine the effrontery! Asking me over and over if I was sure that it was the Imperius curse! Then, insinuating that I was such a weakling in allowing myself to be Imperiused."

Narcissa just looked on, knowing that anything she said at that moment would be ignored, or worse, taken as an insult.

"Nothing has gone right for us since that blasted Potter survived Our Lord's attack! If only we hadn't lost that Veela spawn!" Lucius fell silent, brooding into his drink. "It's really Pettigrew's fault. I still can't believe that stupid idiot Peter went and lost the baby! I can't believe I was saddled with such an incompetent fool for that task! Our Lord could have sent Avery, or Nott, or even Snodgrass with me instead, and it would have gone a lot better. I should have killed him when I had the chance!"

Over the preceding two years, since the failed kidnapping, Lucius had convinced himself that the rat was entirely to blame, conveniently forgetting that he himself was the one that hid the baby in the roots of the tree. It was rather typical of the blond man to apportion all the blame for any failed operation to everyone except himself.

Narcissa, who still held some sort of humanity in her heart, spoke up. "But Lucius, I still don't understand why you had to kidnap the Veela child."

Luckily for Narcissa, Lucius was far enough into his rant that he took this as an invitation to expound on what he perceived as his own brilliance. "The plan was perfect! The Veelas have some powerful capabilities, for all that they are filthy, misbegotten subhumans. The Dark Lord wanted to mix some of the baby's blood into a potion that would transfer to him immunity to fire. Veela can cast balls of fire that burn just about anything they touch, and it was hypothesized that this potion would inure him to its effects. That would be just another step on his road to immortality!" Lucius' mood took a turn for the worse. "Why do you care, Narcissa? You don't feel sympathy for the whelp, do you? We're better off without the child, since the Dark Lord has been vanquished. In fact, the fewer Veela there are in the world, the better!"

Narcissa was used to Lucius' mercurial temperament; after all, she had known him for quite some time. She even knew the real reason that Lucius was so vehement about the desired eradication of Veelas. Ever since his advances had been spurned by the Veela girl, Marie, he had carried a flame of hatred for the race. It made him no happier to know that the Veela hadn't ever married anyone else--he was just bitter that he had not been able to snare one for himself. Narcissa herself didn't harbor the same grudges against the Veela race. She knew that she was a second choice, but still considered herself rather lucky to have been able to marry someone of such high station. Blessedly, he hadn't darkened her bedroom door since he'd been assured of an heir, and her monthly allowance was more than enough to allow her to indulge her pastimes. There certainly wasn't any love in her marriage, but then, there rarely was in the arranged marriages common to the Pureblood community.

Narcissa saw that Lucius was once again wrapped up in his own dark thoughts, and took her leave. She had done her wifely duties in allowing him to vent his anger, and now felt free to spend time with her son, and plan her next dinner party. Perhaps she could invite the Delacours, just to infuriate Lucius. . .

oooooooooo

Summer, 1983

The day Bill came home from his first year at Hogwarts was a great day for the Weasley family. Charlie, of course, was excited to know how his older brother's experience went, because he would be starting in a year and a half. Percy was highly interested in knowing more about the books that Bill brought home. Fred and George were happy to have Bill come home so they could learn more pranking ideas and have his help in pulling off new ones. Ronnie was excited to have Bill show him how to fly, which was a rather premature desire, since Molly wouldn't let any of her children go up on a broom until they were at least 8 years old. This, naturally, didn't stop the older children from taking the younger ones up on their brooms when their mother wasn't around. Arthur turned a blind eye to this, knowing that there was no stopping his sons, and figuring that it was better that they did it knowing they had his tacit approval. That way, he could keep an eye on them, and they'd have someone to come to if an accident happened.

But, as excited as the other boys were, the happiest of all the children was Ginny. She had formed a rather strong attachment to her oldest brother, and had cried a great deal when he left on the Hogwarts Express. Bill had written a few letters home during the year, but Ginny, being only three, hadn't received any great comfort from them.

Curiously, it was during this time of Bill's absence that Ginny started showing two rather startling character traits. The first was not really unexpected—she seemed to have inherited the famous Weasley Redhead temper. All of the Weasley children took after Molly in this regard. She was famous for her ability to go from placidity to full fury in less time than it takes to think up a good excuse. Arthur, thankfully, was a calming presence in the family, but even _he_ hesitated to interrupt Molly once she got a good head of steam going. Ginny had been a rather calm child, happy and easy-going in most situations. But when she finally realized that the big red and black engine was taking her favorite brother "Biw" away, the temper tantrum she threw outclassed anything the boys had ever done. She cried for the rest of the day, after Bill left, and the next day wept and refused to be comforted. Eventually she calmed down, but her temperament refused to go back to the way it had been. Arthur was rather saddened by this, as he had been rather happy to have at least _one_ calm child in his household of hotheads, but accepted it as being just another "thing" to deal with.

The other trait that started manifesting in Ginny was almost certainly an outgrowth of her temper. She had shown minor accidental magic before, chiefly to enable her to get a toy that she wanted. Sometimes she summoned something she wanted, but other times she transfigured a toy into some other, wildly inventive play thing. But the second tantrum she threw after Bill left, which also lasted most of a day, was punctuated by her throwing flames at everything she could see. Arthur and Molly were hard-pressed to keep up with the little girl's fire-casting, but they managed to calm her down before anything more important than Aunt Muriel's tea cozy was burnt. This wasn't too bad, in the Weasleys' opinion, as it had been a rather horrid shade of fuchsia ringed with turquoise and lime green florets, but it _did_ mean a rather embarrassed and apologetic letter to the Aunt in question. Arthur privately hoped that Auntie Muriel wouldn't feel the need to replace it, but endeavored to show the appropriate amount of sadness anyway.

Molly and Arthur resolved to help Ginny learn to control her temper, after that incident. After all, throwing fire is not always the best course of action for resolving a problem. After a lot of hard work, they were able to help the little girl control herself more. Of course, that just meant that she learned how to throw fire when she wanted to, rather than in the heat of the moment, so they also tried to not ever push her past that limit.

All in all, it had been a good year for the Weasleys, in spite of the many goings-on that happen in a family of that size.

oooooooooo

When Bill went back to Hogwarts that Fall, Ginny was still rather upset, but managed to do a better job controlling her temper. For Bill, the school year went on as normal, except that his friends started to engage in more and more pranks. Bill didn't know what to do about this—he had promised his parents that he'd concentrate on his studies, but couldn't keep himself from providing advice to the pranksters, and participating in a few of the minor ones. Needless to say, when he wrote home to his parents, he chose not to enlighten them about every single activity that he was involved in, preferring, rather, to tell them about his classes and the prospects of the house Quidditch team.

Once again, when summer holidays came around, Ginny was overjoyed to see her Big Brother Biw again, and he was equally happy to see his Princess Ginners.

Summer 1984

This summer also saw Bill agonizing over what electives to take, as third years needed to chose additional classes. He was tempted to sign up for Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination, as he had heard that they were both easier than Ancient Runes, or, Merlin forbid, Arithmancy. But after discussing his options with both his father and his mother, and thinking quite a lot about what he wanted to do in the future, he ended up enrolling in the previously-dreaded Ancient Runes, and Muggle Studies (the latter heavily lobbied for by his father).

The Weasleys celebrated Ronnie's and Ginny's fourth birthdays that summer. They had decided that, since Ginny and Ronnie seemed to be of about the same age, they'd encourage the fiction that the two were twins. After all, twins seemed to run in the family, and it seemed like a good cover to give those that didn't know. Thankfully, not too many people had been there when Ronnie had been born, and they were already in on the secret, and had sworn not to divulge it.

In the Fall saw both Bill and Charlie headed off to Hogwarts. By this time Ginny was more accepting of the idea, although she was still saddened at losing her two oldest brothers for such a long time. The separation that year was eased by having both sons come home for the Christmas holidays, although that inevitably led to another tearful farewell as the term started again in January.

oooooooooo

Summer 1985

The next summer was another wonderful one for the Weasley children. Although most boys, when they go off to school, tend to think themselves more important than their younger siblings, neither Bill nor Charlie fell into this trap--at least, not yet. To be fair, Ginny tried really hard not to let them ignore her. Her legendary temper only had to be let loose once before the two oldest pulled their heads out of their trunks and turned back into their normal caring selves. Bill took this to heart, and resolved to never let that happen again, and for the most part, he succeeded.

Fall came, and with it the now-routine trip to Kings Cross to see Charlie and Bill off again, ready to learn more magic, and see more of what the world had to offer them.

Charlie's second year at school saw the beginnings of a profound change in his desires. Whereas, before that year, he had been dead set on becoming just like his dad, working at the Ministry, and eventually replacing Arthur as the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, a chance injury to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team's Seeker proved to be a watershed event for the 12-year old. At open tryouts for replacement Seeker, Charlie decided that he'd take a shot at it, since absolutely no-one else stepped forward when the Captain asked. Laughter broke out when the small boy pushed through the crowd, holding his beat-up old Nimbus 60, but the Captain allowed him to try for the Snitch. Surprising nearly everyone there, with the exception of Bill, who already had an idea of Charlie's latent talent, Charlie proved amazing in catching the three practice Snitches. The Captain and the rest of the team agreed rather quickly, and announced that Charlie would be the Starting Seeker. Charlie, for himself, found an incredible amount of joy and a sense of fulfillment in flying competitively, and started to think that a job that required him to sit in an office all day maybe wouldn't be as exciting as he had originally thought. He didn't say anything about this, though, to his parents, as he wasn't sure how they'd receive the news.

Bill had a rather exciting year, too. His integration into the current group of pranksters was complete by then, and he had been able to help plan some of the more interesting and amusing tricks that were pulled off. But even more significant, at least, to anyone besides, perhaps, the Caretaker, Argus Filch, was how much he found himself enjoying his Ancient Runes classes. Far from being horribly hard and boring, he found he had an aptitude for them, and quickly rose to the top of his class. This was to have a far-reaching impact on his future career choice.

Ginny found the year to be a little less carefree than her previous ones, as she and Ronnie started primary school. She found it rather bothersome to have to spend three days a week learning how to read, which she already had the basics of, and write, which she found laborious, and do maths, at which she excelled. But at least it wasn't as hard on her as it was on Ronnie, who complained constantly about having to spend his time indoors, when he'd much rather have been outside.

That spring also marked a major change for the sixth son in the Weasley family. Now that Ronnie had started primary school, and spent most of the year being called "Ronnie" by all his classmates, and his teacher, whom he adored, he decided that it was a baby's name. He stood up one evening at dinner, and informed everyone present that he was to be called "Ron" from here on out, and wouldn't answer to "Ronnie" anymore. Arthur and Molly looked at each other, smiled, and agreed. Molly even acceded to Ronnie's, no, _Ron_'s, wishes, and sent owls to all the other brothers informing them of this change. Of course, this gave Ginny some leverage over her brother, as she could always infuriate him by calling him "Ronnie", since he could never ignore it from his twin sister.

Summer, 1986

The summer before Bill's fifth year was mostly notable due to the surprising addition to his Hogwarts letter. In addition to the normal book list, and warning that this would be his O.W.L. year, he also found a Prefect's badge. This surprised his mother, and deeply pleased her. It was a surprise also to Arthur, who hadn't realized his son was doing quite that well in his classes. Bill, however, was utterly shocked. Sure, he was doing well in a few of his classes, but he hadn't realized that he had been quite so near the top in the others. He privately thought that, to have picked him, Professor McGonagall must have been rather desperate to find someone to fill that position. Nevertheless, it also provoked a change in his attitude toward studying. If he really _was_ Prefect material, then maybe he could apply himself more, and eventually reach Head Boy. While he hadn't really wanted the responsibilities of that appointment, it _would_ provide him some opportunities that he otherwise wouldn't have.

Summer turned into Fall, and Bill and Charlie returned to school as per normal. Ginny was resigned, by now, to this necessity, and only cried for half an hour when the big red and black train left on its yearly trip.

Bill found that he rather enjoyed being a Prefect, not because of the authority he was able to wield over the other students, but rather because he was in a position to help those that needed guidance. He had always had a protective tendency, witness his close relationship to the little sister whom they had adopted, and this new assignment allowed him to practice that even more.

Charlie had yet another life-changing year. He, of course, continued as the premier Seeker at the school, catching every Snitch he sought, allowing Gryffindor to win the lion's share of their games. But perhaps even more significant was his choice in electives. Charlie signed up for Divination, which he found he absolutely detested, and in which he received horrible grades, although the Professor seemed to consider it her duty to predict his demise at least once a month. He also signed up for Care of Magical Creatures, and that sparked some major introspection and eventually cemented his life's desire. The ability to care for the strange and wonderful animals that Professor Kettleburn introduced, and to spend time in the Forbidden Forest, always under supervision, mind you, woke in him the discovery that he purely loved being outside. He wasn't sure, exactly, what kind of job would allow him to spend his days out-of-doors, but he knew, without the smallest doubt, that he'd never be able to be a desk jockey like his father.

When the boys came home the next Spring, Charlie sought out his father and talked to him, hoping that he wouldn't be too upset at Charlie's decision to forge his own path instead of following in his father's footsteps. Arthur listened to Charlie's halting monologue, heard his apologetic tone, and took his son in his arms, noting, absently, that although he didn't seem to be growing tall as fast as Bill was, he was certainly getting more muscular. He calmed Charlie's fears, and explained to him that it didn't matter _what_ Charlie wanted to do, that any father just wants his children to be happy. Besides, Arthur thought to himself, he had six other children, maybe one of them would want to work for the Ministry.

Summer, 1987

That summer passed uneventfully for the Weasleys, with the exception of Percy. He was just about frantic with the upcoming opportunity to attend Hogwarts. He had watched carefully as Bill, and then Charlie, progressed through their years and decided on a career path. Percy wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to be. He didn't care much for Quidditch and the outdoors, so something that involved either of those fields was out of the question. And he _did_ want to be a Prefect, although not for the same reasons Bill had, so maybe something where he had a little authority. This would bear some thinking.

Also that summer, Arthur Weasley took note of the fact that his family was growing rather large for their house, and that he needed to make a few changes to the family home. It had originally started out as a rather modest cottage, and then, as children came, had been expanded. Fred and George, of course, shared a room, as did Charlie and Percy. Bill, as the oldest, had a room to himself, but Ron and Ginny had been having to share too. Arthur realized that the time had come to give their daughter her own room. She hadn't started to develop any sort of womanly characteristics yet--after all, she was only 7, but he knew it was coming when she started to refuse to be bathed at the same time as Ron.

So, he took some of their meager savings, and a few days off of work, and built yet another bedroom for the family. He was rather proud of his construction abilities—they had served him well in expanding the Burrow already. He knew that his idea of a beautiful home wasn't the same as that of most notable Pureblood families. He realized that when people saw his comfortable home for the first time, a type of polarization would happen, that people would either love it, as he did, or consider it to be a blight on civilization. But, he rationalized, _they_ didn't have to live in it, did they? Besides, their reactions provided Arthur a rather reliable measure of their character, and he found it highly amusing to watch, as well.

The new room for his little girl was inserted between the ground and first floors, close to both the bathroom, and the master bedroom. In a fit of optimism, Molly requested that Arthur paint it pink. She gave it frilly curtains for the window, and made plans to decorate it in a fairy motif. But this was all for naught, unfortunately. The first thing Ginny said upon seeing the room was, "Pink? Why is it pink? The Harpies wear green!"

Molly just sighed, and resigned herself to having a rather less-feminine girl than she had hoped for. It's not like it was unexpected—growing up amongst so many boys would have either forced Ginny to become ultra-girly in reaction to all the testosterone in the air, or become a tom-boy, and Ginny had followed the latter course eagerly.

Molly gave Ginny permission to re-paint the walls, and even managed to beg some HolyHead Harpies posters off some friends of hers, whom she had known rather well back when she was being scouted for the Harpies herself. Arthur just smiled, thought a quiet "I told you so", and helped his daughter with the redecorating.

All in all, Arthur's home reflected his inner self very well. It was cozy, warm, eclectic, and happy. He found himself one evening, towards the end of August, standing on the hill between the house and the pond, reflecting on his family and their situation. Bill would be starting his sixth year at Hogwarts. Percy would be in first year, and knowing that Bill would be there to watch out for him was very comforting. Of course, with Bill's prefect duties, it would normally have been Charlie that would spend more time with the studious young man. But Charlie's new-found desire to be out-of-doors made it obvious that he and Percy would never quite see eye-to-eye. Bill, on the other hand, had received incredible grades, and was top of his class, with the exception of a couple of Ravenclaws, and would be a better fit with the 11-year old.

As Arthur was contemplating these thoughts, he was also looking fondly at the Burrow. Suddenly, he gasped, and let out a belly laugh. He doubted that anyone else would have put together the clues, but he, being an inveterate Muggle-lover, had read some of their children's books, in an effort to understand those strange and wonderful people better. If he tilted his head slightly, and squinted a bit, the Burrow looked just like a woman's lace-up, high-topped dress shoe. And it was certainly true that Molly sometimes didn't know what to do with so many children. Although they never spanked their children, and they always had bread, they _did_ occasionally feed them broth, with potatoes and carrots and chicken making up the rest of the soup, of course. His chuckles finally died down, and he made a promise to himself that he'd tell Molly the whole story—he had a feeling she'd think it was a fabulous prank on the family, and on the world at the same time.

oooooooooo

True to Arthur's expectations, Percy received wonderful grades for his first year. He and Bill had become closer friends than ever, and Charlie had continued to grow stronger both in body, and desire for an outdoor life, through working with Professor Kettleburn's creatures. Added in to his preparations for the future, Charlie's Quidditch exploits showed that he was fast becoming one of the best Quidditch players Hogwarts had seen in a long time.

When the family arrived home from Kings Cross Station, the hullabaloo in their kitchen was well-nigh unbearable. Bill was trying to tell Ginny about his classes, and, in a quieter voice, the pranks that he had managed to pull off with his friends. Ginny listened intently to everything her favorite older brother said, and laughed in all the right places. Charlie was enthusing rather loudly about having been able to see a dragon in Care of Magical Creatures that year. And Percy was telling the Twins everything he could remember about the teachers and how well they presented the lesson materials. Ron kept pestering Charlie for Quidditch stories, and the Twins found themselves trying to tune out Percy so they could pay attention to Bill, who, they were sure, was telling something wonderful, if the expression on Ginny's face was to be trusted. Molly bustled about the room, preparing a wonderful dinner (of chicken soup, and home-made bread, which made Arthur snicker). As Arthur sat at the head of the table smiling, happy to have his family home again, he decided that he was, possibly, the richest man alive.

Summer, 1988

Hogwarts letters that summer brought two more surprises. Bill's letter was rather thicker than even the one before his fifth year, because inside it was the invitation offering Bill the position of Head Boy. Molly just about screamed in happiness at this—she had always had great dreams for her children, and this seemed to be the answer to her prayers. The other surprise wasn't really a surprise. Despite Molly's hopes and dreams, Charlie was **not** asked to be a prefect for Gryffindor. Arthur figured that Charlie was much too interested in the Forbidden Forest, and its denizens, to have been able to have a detention-free school year. Of course, Arthur contemplated, the detentions usually involved him having to help Professor Kettleburn, so maybe there was another, more premeditated, reason that he had been given so many. Charlie was perfectly fine with this lack of responsibility, as that would allow him even more time to spend with his beloved creatures.

School started that fall, with the inevitability of the seasons, and brought with it an increase in letters to Ginny from Bill. Over the summer he had realized that this would, in fact, be his last year at school. After that he would start a job, hopefully, and wouldn't be around the family as much. He knew that Ginny would miss him tremendously, and decided to do what he could to help cement their relationship, and get her used to the idea of his leaving. Letters proved to be a life-saver for both, as it gave them the perfect avenue to discuss issues that are uncomfortable to address face-to-face. They also gave Bill a venue in which to discuss his pranks.

Ginny always enjoyed hearing from Bill. She was old enough to understand the upcoming separation, and to bitterly lament it. But, after spending a week depressed about the idea, Bill's first letter came, wherein he explained to her his idea about their correspondence. This served to change her attitude, and she spent the rest of the school year studying hard, helping around the house, and, above all, exchanging letters with her favorite brother.

Ginny made sure to relay to her parents all the innocuous news that Bill wrote, in the hopes that they wouldn't demand to see the letters themselves. Bill had worked out a Charm to ensure that only she would be able to read said letters, but they also knew that their father was rather gifted in Charms too, and didn't want to take any chances.

Occasionally, Ginny would share news of Bill's pranks with the Twins, who were, themselves, quite well-versed in the arts of fun, but it was Bill himself, in person, who told them of his crowning achievement. The night after returning from Hogwarts, Bill snuck down to Ginny's room, gathering up Fred and George on the way. Once safely ensconced in the green room, and after having cast three different privacy charms, Bill told them about pranking the Headmaster.

Summer, 1989

"You see, Headmaster Dumbledore is never to be found far away from his jelly beans. For some reason, he absolutely loves them. Well, we decided that we needed to leave a lasting legacy, similar to the group known as the Marauders, who, from what I could find out, were there about 15 years ago. Anyway, you all have heard of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, right?"

The others nodded their agreement, anxious for Bill to continue.

"Well, one night we snuck into the Headmaster's office while he was away on Wizengamot business. We had discovered the password to get past the gargoyle--"

Gasps from the other three interrupted his narration.

"Oh, you see, there's a stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, and it only moves aside if you whisper the password to it. Professor Dumbledore always makes it some kind of sweet, but he's been using Muggle sweets recently, and we don't know those very well. Anyway, one of my friends overheard Professor Vector say the password rather too loudly the week before. It was lucky that he was in a position to see the gargoyle open—otherwise he never would have guessed it was the password."

At this, of course, Fred, George, and Ginny clamored to know what it was.

"Well, apparently the Muggles have a type of biscuit named _Alfajores._" He stumbled a bit on the pronunciation, but the other three didn't know any better, so he just pretended he had said it correctly.

"That sounds like a spell, not a biscuit!" was Ginny's exclamation. Fred and George nodded their agreement.

"Yeah, that's why we were so lucky that my friend saw what was going on; otherwise he would have assumed the same thing. Anyway, we snuck up to the office, and searched for the Professor's stash of jelly beans. One of my friends knows a Blinding spell, and he cast it on the portraits so they wouldn't see what we were doing. After that, I cast a Deafening charm on them too. Now, the office is chock full of books and silver knick-knacks, and cupboards and cabinets, so we just about despaired of finding anything. Luckily, I've been doing some extra studying--" George and Fred looked scandalized at this, "--on curse breaking, and detection of charms and hexes, and I found a cupboard that had a very strong Notice-Me-Not charm on it. Naturally I looked. . ."

All three of the others nodded their understanding, and Bill went on.

". . .and found the mother lode of jelly beans. We hurriedly replaced them all with the ones we had brought with us, and turned to go. But when we turned around, we saw eyes staring at us."

By this point, the younger children were so caught up in the story that they were on the edge of their seats, and breathing as quietly as they could.

The silence grew tense, until finally Ginny asked, "Was it the Headmaster?"

Bill chuckled, and continued the story. "No, Little Ginny, it wasn't. But we thought for sure it would be the end of everything. You see, Professor Dumbledore has a pet phoenix, and it was watching us. I don't know why we didn't notice him at first—maybe they can turn invisible when they want to. Anyway, we just froze. The phoenix didn't do anything, just sat there and stared at us. Finally, I smiled at it, and said, 'Hello there'. The bird trilled something back to me, and I couldn't understand what it was saying, but I felt more calm about everything. Taking a chance, I asked, 'Are you going to tell the Headmaster what we were doing?' Then, the funniest thing happened—the phoenix trilled again, which sounded a bit like laughter, and it _shook its head_!"

Fred and George exchanged a look of disbelief. "You're kidding!" Fred said, rather more loudly than he should have.

Bill shushed him, and shook his head. "No, it really shook its head at us. Then it sang again, and I felt that it was telling me that it enjoyed a joke just as much as we did. I don't know why I felt that way, but as it didn't seem intent on injuring us, or flying off to get the Headmaster, we just tiptoed over to the door and slipped out."

Bill sat back and smiled, as if he were done. Ginny looked at him expectantly, then indignantly, then burst out, "But what was the prank? All you did was replace his jelly beans with others. How is that funny?"

Bill grinned at her, cast another Silencing Charm, and finished the story. "You see, Gin, we had spent the whole year buying Bertie Bott's Beans and finding the vomit-flavored ones. By the end of the year we had quite the collection. We charmed them different colors, so you couldn't tell what they were. . ."

Ginny broke up. In between her gasps of laughter, she said, "So. . . every. . .bean. . .he. . .tasted--"

Fred interrupted, "--was a vomit-flavored one?"

It was a good thing that Bill had cast a second Silencing Charm, as the whole room dissolved into uproarious howls of glee. Eventually they all calmed down, and Ginny looked back at Bill.

"Well, do you know what happened after that?" she asked.

"Not specifically, no. But I happened to hear him after the leaving feast, talking to Professor McGonagall. He was saying, ". . yes, the whole bowl full. I must admit my food just about made an undignified reappearance, and now even the thought of having another jelly bean makes me rather nauseated."

Ginny's giggles filled the room then, and they all looked admiringly at their oldest brother.

"Bill," began Fred.

"You've inspired us," continued George.

"I think--"

"--that we'll--"

"--have some pretty--"

"--big shoes--"

"--to fill--"

"--next year--"

"--when we start--"

"--Hogwarts!" they finished together.

Bill smiled at them, and said, "Well, I wish you luck. And just so you know, he prefers lemon drops now."

oooooooooo

That summer passed much too rapidly for the Weasley family. Bill applied, and was hired, for a job at Gringotts. It was only as a teller in their Egyptian branch, but, as he explained to his parents, ". . .if I do really well with it, and take the evening classes on Curse-Breaking for Fun and Profit, then I can get hired on as an apprentice Curse-Breaker!"

Molly's face went white at that. She knew what Curse-Breakers did, and had to face, and the idea that her oldest son would be that far away, fighting ancient curses and plundering tombs, was frightening, to say the least. But, she knew that this was a good opportunity for him, and could see the desire in his eyes, so she reluctantly supported him in his decision.

Charlie was going into his sixth year, and was signed up for Advanced Studies in Dragon Lore, an evening class that Professor Kettleburn was offering on the side. The cost was rather high, as the students had to travel to Romania, but Charlie was determined to not let that be a burden to his parents, and arranged to work for the Professor part-time in his free evenings and weekends to pay the extra tuition. His Quidditch team, of course, was rather worried about losing their star Seeker, but Charlie assured them that Professor Kettleburn was an avid Quidditch fan too, and they would schedule his work around the games and practices--as long as they didn't schedule more than two practices a week.

Fred and George were extremely chuffed to be able to start Hogwarts that Fall. They had spent a lot of time with Bill that summer, he having become almost their patron saint of pranking. Suffice it to say that they were greatly looking forward to the opportunities presented to them by a whole school-full of students, and a lack of parental supervision.

September 1st found the Weasleys bidding farewell to four of their children at Kings Cross Station. After a lot of hugging and crying, the red and black steam engine slowly left the station, gathering speed, and the remaining Weasleys, now down to four, since Bill had left the week previously, made their way home.

oooooooooo

That year, with Ron and Ginny the only ones home, proved to be a hard one for all involved. Ginny greatly missed both her favorite brother, Bill, and the Twins, with whom she felt a special kinship also. Ron was still home, it is true, but being so close in age, they could have either bonded tightly, or proven the adage that familiarity breeds contempt. Unfortunately, it was the latter, brought on, in no small part, by Ron's being angry that he had to share his birthday with Ginny. He knew that Ginny had been adopted, but couldn't see why she had to have _his_ birthday.

"Why couldn't you make her birthday later, like in August?" he complained once, to his mother.

Molly rolled her eyes, and commenced an explanation of birthdays, and gestation periods, and realities in the Weasley family, that left Ron blushing, mortified, and convinced that, even if he didn't like it, he would _never_ bring up the topic of birthdays ever again.

This didn't lessen the tension between the two nine-year-olds, and Ginny found herself becoming even closer to her mother, and finding joy in doing some of the more _girly_ things that Molly had been hoping for.

Ron, on the other hand, immersed himself in Quidditch, especially in the lore of the Chudley Cannons, a bottom-of-the-league team whose uniforms were an eye-watering orange. Speculation was that they had chosen this color in an attempt to make it harder on their opponents. After all, if you can't _see_ the Snitch, then you can't _catch_ it either. It didn't work.

The Twins' first year at Hogwarts was marked by a greater-than-average number of Howlers being heard at breakfast. Molly seemed, though, to give up on the hope that this would change Fred and George--the number of Howlers decreased as the year went on, until they only came when the Twins had done something so horrendous that Molly couldn't ignore.

Summer, 1990

Both Ron and Ginny were ecstatic to have the other boys home from school for the summer. Tensions had run high between the two, until their parents had found it necessary to establish a set of rules governing how they could interact. These rules didn't solve the problem, by any means, but they did make it so that both children were more apt to weigh the consequences before starting a fight. Now, with Fred, George, Percy and Charlie home, there would be a natural buffer between the two.

That summer was a rather hot one--Arthur even had to invest in an upgrade to the fireplace that allowed Cooling Flames (get them while they're not hot!) as a way to combat the heat. Family Quidditch was still played, of course, but the games had to take place either early in the morning, which Ginny preferred but Ron detested, or late in the evening, which was enjoyable for all. Charlie had to play Chaser in these games, since they didn't have another Seeker, but he was acceptable in that position--certainly better than Percy.

The highlight of the summer was when the whole family went to see the Chudley Cannons play against Puddlemere United. It goes without saying that the Cannons lost, with a score of 730-20, but seeing them play turned Ron into a veritable fanatic, even to the extent of persuading his mother to let him paint his room Chudley orange. Ginny shuddered at that, and reaffirmed her vow to never enter Ron's room, even to prank him.

oooooooooo

Charlie's last year at school was characterized by a phenomenal Quidditch season, where he continued his streak of catching the Snitch in all his games, thereby driving his team to win the Quidditch Cup. He did fine enough in all his classes, but it was rather obvious that his mind wasn't really on anything except for Care of Magical Creatures. He had already entered into correspondence with the dragon preserve in Romania, which he had visited, and had a tentative job offer, contingent upon his getting at least four N.E.W.T.s.

Fred and George also had a very good year. The Gryffindor team had lost all three of their Chasers, and both of Beaters to graduation--Fred was heard to say, "Couldn't at least one of them have flunked on purpose?"--so open tryouts were held very early in the year.

Fred and George, having some small desire to be on the Quidditch team, but, more importantly, having seen how pretty the girls were who were trying out for Chaser, tried out for the Beater spots, and the rest, as they say, was history. They had never before played in the Beater position, not having enough people to do so at home, but they found incredible reserves of natural talent. Very quickly the Weasley brothers became notorious for their tactics--Fred and George seemed to integrate effortlessly into the team. They protected the Chasers, on whom they had immediately developed crushes, with a ferocity only rivaled by their protection of the Seeker, although, to be honest, a Bludger hitting Charlie barely made a dent in the impressive set of muscles he had gained working out-of-doors.

Percy was doing well too. Although his achievements were much less flamboyant than his brothers', he was slowly working his way towards being the top scholar of his year. He had sat down after his first year, and sketched out what he wanted his academic career to be, and was well on his way towards fulfilling his plans. He wanted to be prefect next year, and Head Boy two years later. This was all a precursor to gaining 14 N.E.W.T.s, and then taking a job with the Ministry of Magic. After the requisite time working his way up through the ranks of the Ministry, he planned to run for Minister, or at least become one of the Minister's Secretaries.

Summer, 1991

At the school year's end, Charlie had received his requisite 4 N.E.W.T.s, and a job offer from the dragon preserve in Romania. He had to pack and leave rather quickly after he came home, which made Ginny sad, but he was so excited that he didn't pay that much attention to her mood.

When Hogwarts letters came that summer, Percy received an offer to be Prefect, as expected, and much rejoicing was to be heard--at least, from Molly and Percy. Ginny, too, was happy for her quiet, studious brother, but the others really didn't care very much.

Fred and George had to choose which classes to take as their electives the next year, and spent about 4 seconds deciding on Ancient Runes, and Divination. "After all," said George, "think of the pranks we could set up using Runic Magic."

Fred chimed in with, "And Trelawney is a hoot to prank--she never realizes it wasn't _fore-ordained_."

But perhaps the most portentous happening of all, was that this fall was when Ginny started Hogwarts.

oooooooooo

A/N: As always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrasskerr. They truly are remarkable, and find things that I, apparently, can't.  
The name Snodgrass comes from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, by Roald Dahl.  
And if you ever have the opportunity to eat an _Alfajor_, you'll understand why Dumbledore was so fond of them.


	6. Chapter 6, Delacour Happenings

**Birds of a Feather, Chapter 6, Delacour Happenings**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames ignored haughtily.

oooooooooo

Harry was the happiest boy in the world. Living with the Delacours was practically perfect. He couldn't remember the family that he lived with before the mean man and woman, so this was the best life he could imagine.

Giselle and Pierre Delacour were almost the happiest parents in the world. They had a beautiful daughter, and a wonderful almost-son. The only spot of bad in their world was the continuing absence of their daughter Madeline. As the years wore on, their hopes diminished, until finally they contacted the investigators who had been searching for the little Veela girl and told them to lower the priority. It hurt them to do so, but they had decided to concentrate their attentions on their current children, and save their sorrow for private moments. In this way, they hoped to be able to devote the necessary time and attention to Fleur and Harry.

Life in the Delacour estate was extremely pleasant. Harry and Fleur got along swimmingly, in spite of their occasional minor squabbles. These were mostly caused by the girl's desire to mother the boy, and the boy's desire to be just as grown-up as the girl. But these were easily solved, or at least, diminished, by application of liberal amounts of ice cream.

As Pierre was rather rich, due to an inheritance from a dotty uncle who chose, for some reason, to name Pierre as the sole beneficiary of his will, Giselle didn't ever feel the need to work outside the home, which was a great relief to the whole family. Harry and Fleur were both very energetic, exuberant, and blessed with magical power. This meant that Giselle spent a lot of her time herding her children, curbing their excesses, and trying to reverse their accidental magic. Both parents doubted, however, that the term "accidental" should be applied to what their children did. Could it be accident when all the vegetables in the cold drawer suddenly ended up tasting like chocolate? Or when they found all of Harry's books nestled alongside the boy himself when they went in to wake him up in the morning? Or what about the time that Fleur decided that her bedroom needed to be fluorescent green? Surely this was magic-on-purpose. But it was all part and parcel of raising magical children, the Delacours agreed, and refused to stifle the creativity so inherent in the young ones. Well, with one small exception—Fleur had inherited the Veela trait of casting fireballs, and had a tendency to sprout flames from her hands when she was angry. Giselle had to sit her down for a long talk about this capability, and make her promise to never take out her anger on another living being. Their Chateau had a special room for the letting-off of Veela anger (officially it was known as the Fire Room, although Pierre thought of it as the _Hell Hath no Fury_ Room) , and Pierre never went in unless he was sure it hadn't been used in the previous day—the latent heat was enough to make him feel rather faint.

Harry hadn't manifested the fireball-throwing trait, yet. In fact, his Veela heritage was visible only in his improved sense of smell. And, to be truthful, that was as much a curse as a blessing. The Delacour house-elves had to work overtime to make sure no unpleasant odors drifted into the dining area of the house—grass-flavored filet was just as disgusting as one might think. But Giselle had no doubts that he would prove to have other Veela characteristics, which would, undoubtedly arrive in their own time.

Time passed in the Delacour household, without too many happenings of note. The family went on outings together, where the children were introduced to culture and art. And one day, they even visited the zoo.

oooooooo

"Fleur! Harry! Are you ready to go?" Giselle hated yelling—she felt it made her age faster than she should. For the first years of raising her children, she had tried very hard not to raise her voice. But, as time went on, she became more and more resigned to the necessity of, sometimes, yelling like a Headmistress.

"Oui, Maman!" came Fleur's response, along with the pitter-patter of her feet running down the stairs from her bedroom.

Giselle listened more, but couldn't hear anything from Harry.

"Harry! Are you coming?" she yelled again.

In response she heard a slight mumble from Fleur, but, yet again, nothing from her boy.

"What was that, Fleur?"

"Um, I don't think he's coming, Mama," Fleur repeated.

Something in her expression alerted Giselle that there might be something here that needed investigating. "Why not, cherie? He was so excited to see the monkeys, why wouldn't he come now?"

"He's in the bathroom, Maman. I told him and I told him to come, but he wouldn't come out. So I just yelled 'Fine, stay there!' and I left."

"Okay, sweetheart, I guess I'll go see what the problem is." Giselle put her purse down on the counter and climbed the stairs to the children's bathroom. She tried to open the door, but the knob wouldn't turn. "Harry! Open the door, please!" she called through the door.

"Mama!" came Harry's sob-filled voice. "I can't! Fleur locked me in!"

Giselle unlocked the door with her wand and opened it quickly. A small, black-haired blur crashed into her, and Harry flung his arms around his mother. "I couldn't get out, Mama! I tried and tried, but the door wouldn't open, and I thought you were going to leave without me! Please don't leave me! I'll be good, I promise!" Harry's sobs were increasing as he clung to his mother.

"Shh, little one, it's all right. I'm not going without you. And what did I tell you? I'll never leave you, remember?"

Harry sniffled a bit, and wiped his nose on Giselle's pants. "Uh-huh. That's what you said, but I was so scared when I couldn't open the door!"

"It's okay, Harry. We love you, and we'll **always** love you and take care of you." She crouched down to pull him into her arms, then stood up carefully. Muttering a quick _limpiadora_ spell to clean the spots where Harry had wiped his hands and nose, she turned away from the bathroom and headed toward the stairs. "Now, can you tell me what happened between you and Fleur? She said you wouldn't come out of the bathroom, and she yelled at you."

Harry looked abashed at this, and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Mama. I was just trying to make my hair look nice and pretty like Fleur's. Hers does what she wants it to. She brushes it and it's all smooth and shiny, but mine just pokes up. I wanted to look nice for the monkeys!"

Giselle stifled a giggle at this as the couple started descending the stairs.

"Oof, Harry, you're getting too big for me to carry down the stairs. What have you been eating? Rhinoceroses?"

Just as Giselle had expected, Harry giggled at this. "No, Mama. Just what Peti gives me. Do you think she's feeding me rine. . .ocer. . .uz?"

"No, ma cherie! We don't eat rhinoceros in this house. But maybe you're having too many chocolate croissants for breakfast?"

"But, Mama! Peti makes 'em taste so good! Ooh, can I have one now?" Harry had forgotten his earlier fear about being abandoned and Giselle felt a little thrill of happiness, knowing that she had grown to know the boy so well, and that he was so happy in her family.

"Well, okay, dear, but I don't think I'm going to be able to carry you downstairs anymore. Maybe you should carry me. . ."

The wide-eyed, shocked look on Harry's face made Giselle giggle, out loud this time, as they rounded the corner into the front room where Fleur was waiting. She had her face buried in a book and seemed oblivious to the by-play.

"Fleur, cherie, I got Harry out of the bathroom. Fleur!"

The girl in question looked up in surprise. "Oh, are you ready now? Hi, Harry, why didn't you come out of the bathroom?"

Harry looked at Fleur with a sorrowful expression on his little face. Giselle saw this, and felt her joy fade a little at seeing his distress.

"I'm sorry, Fleur, I just wanted to comb my hair, and look as pretty as you, but it wouldn't be flat. Mama, can I have yellow hair like Fleur?"

Giselle groaned inside. Where Harry had learned how to give puppy-dog eyes was a mystery, but learn them he did, and they were powerful. He didn't use them often, but when he did, it was all Giselle and Pierre could do to not give in.

On second thought, though, she decided that this was actually a good thing. "Harry, do you really want yellow hair like Fleur's?"

Harry bounced up and down in her arms. "Oui, Mama! Please, please can you change it for me?" He thought for a bit. "Just for today? I like black, but I want to look like Fleur today!"

Giselle set Harry down and pulled out her wand. "Okay, Harry. Now, hold still." She waved her wand and whispered the spell, and Harry's hair started to turn a light, corn-stalk yellow. The tips turned first, and slowly the change grew up the hair until it reached the scalp. She conjured a mirror, next, and held it so he could see the change.

Harry's face lit up in glee. "See, Fleur? I'm bootiful, just like you!"

Fleur looked at her little brother and smiled. "Yes, Harry, you are. You look beautiful, just like me."

"Okay, children, we need to go now, otherwise we might miss the monkeys."

Harry immediately ran to the entryway. "I'm ready, Mama, let's aprate!"

"Just a second, Harry, I have to tell Fleur something." Turning to her daughter, and lowering her voice, she said, "Fleur, you have to be careful how you say things. When you told Harry to stay in the bathroom, your magic locked the door. That's why Harry couldn't get out."

Fleur's face fell. "I didn't mean to, Mama, I was just upset at him 'cause he wouldn't come. I _want_ Harry to come to the zoo with us!"

"I know you do, sweetheart, and I'm not mad. I just wanted to remind you to be careful what you wish for so strongly. Now, let's see a smile on that beautiful face of yours, and we'll go visit the monkeys!"

Fleur smiled up at her mother, hugged her quickly, skipped over to where Harry was waiting and took his hand. "Are you ready to go, Harry?"

Harry, who had been waiting almost patiently, smiled brilliantly at his sister and yelled, "Yeah! Let's go see monkeys!"

Giselle looked fondly at her children, and once again sent up a prayer of thanks that they had found Harry that day so long ago.

oooooooooo

The zoo proved to be a hit with both youngsters. Fleur, much to her surprise, liked the monkeys more than anything else. While Harry had been incredibly excited about seeing them, she hadn't originally shown much interest. But they had to drag her away from the monkey cages after more than half an hour had passed. Harry liked seeing their escapades, but they ended up taking second place to the reptiles. Once they stepped inside the cool rooms that housed the snakes, and toads, and crocodiles, and newts, and komodo dragons, they had just as hard a time getting him out of there as they had Fleur away from the monkeys.

As they were leaving the reptile house, they happened to pass the cage of a large anaconda. As most of the reptiles were doing, it was sleeping on a branch. Watching it were a couple of children, and a harassed-looking mother. Harry walked close enough to hear the young girl say, "Mama, this is boring. Why doesn't the snake do something?"

Harry couldn't see why the girl thought the snake was boring--to him it was beautiful. As he watched, the snake seemed to wake up from its nap. The girl jumped up and down in her excitement, and her brother pulled on their mother's hand to show her what was going on. The poor mother, for her part, just sighed, and said, "Okay, you saw the snakes. Let's go do the shopping before your father gets home." Disappointment clearly visible in the children's faces, they trudged out the door, leaving Harry unfettered access to the front of the cage. He stepped forward, and the snake raised its head even more, tongue flicking in and out quickly, trying to get a taste of Harry's scent.

"Hi there," the little boy chirped to the snake. "I'm glad you woke up. You're the most bootiful snake in here, even better than the python!" The enthusiasm in his voice was something to behold. Unnoticed by Harry, Giselle and Fleur had moved up behind him to try to hear what he was saying. Upon hearing her son, Giselle gasped, which startled Harry, and drew the attention of the snake.

"Harry, what were you saying?" his mother asked, putting on an appearance of calm.

"I was just telling the snake that it was bootiful, Mama."

"Are you sure, dear? Were you speaking like this?"

Harry didn't know for sure what his Mama was saying. Of course he was speaking like normal, couldn't they understand? "Yes, Mama, why?"

"Well, it sounded like you were hissing at the snake, like maybe you were trying to speak snake language. Were you pretending to do that?"

"No, Mama, I was just talking."

Giselle thought for a minute, but was interrupted by her daughter. "No you weren't, Harry! You were hissing, I heard you. Mama! Tell Harry he was hissing!" Fleur angrily folded her arms and gave Harry a look that he clearly interpreted as the "You're going to be in so much trouble!" look.

"No, Mama, I wasn't. I was just talking!" Harry was desperate to have his mother believe him. His parents didn't ever hit him, or beat him, but he loved them so much that even a disappointed look was enough to make him very sad.

"Fleur, please be quiet for a bit; I need to figure out what happened." Fleur was a little miffed that her mother talked to her like that, but, knowing that she wasn't going to win this battle, subsided into grumpy silence.

"Harry, can you do me a favor?" Harry nodded vigorously. "Okay, can you talk to the snake again? Pretend Fleur and I aren't here, and just tell the snake something." Giselle hoped that by standing close enough, she'd have a better chance at hearing what was going on.

"Okay. Um, what should I tell it?"

"Just whatever you want. Maybe you could tell it about the other snakes you saw, or maybe the monkeys?"

Harry thought for a bit, then smiled. "Okay, I'll tell her about how much Fleur liked the monkeys, especially when they were throwing--"

Giselle interrupted quickly. "No! Harry, just tell him--or her--about the monkeys; you don't have to tell her about throwing . . . things . . ."

Harry looked quizzically at his mother, then shrugged internally, and nodded. He didn't understand why he couldn't tell about the most interesting part of the visit, but then, there were lots of things he didn't understand about grown-ups. He turned to the anaconda, and started regaling it with the tale of Fleur's delight, starting, of course, by explaining how she hadn't really wanted to see the monkeys in the first place, but then got really excited at watching them swing through their habitat.

Giselle listened to the boy's monologue, which proceeded in a rather stilted fashion, as if he were hyper-aware of the presence of the two females behind him. But, eventually he forgot about their presence, and that's when it happened: Harry started hissing again. As Giselle watched, the anaconda raised its head and looked directly at Harry. She felt her heart skip a beat. A Parselmouth; Harry was a Parselmouth.

oooooooooo

The revelation that Harry could speak to snakes engendered quite different reactions, depending on the constitution of the audience. If Harry were present, then the news was discussed in a rather matter-of-fact tone, much like discussing whether it would rain that day, or whether the house-elves would serve chocolate croissants for breakfast. If Harry wasn't present, but Fleur was, then it was discussed more-or-less the same way, but the conversation was peppered with admonitions to the girl to keep this knowledge to herself; that it was a family secret. When the participants consisted solely of the adult Delacours, the conversation was usually hushed, urgent, and involved Pierre and Giselle trying to decide whether to tell someone in authority about Harry's talent.

Neither of the Delacour parents felt that Parseltongue was a mark of a dark wizard, but they were not naive enough to believe that all the people with whom Harry would come in contact would feel the same way. After about a week of thinking, and discussing, and pondering, and weighing the options, Giselle and Pierre decided that they would impress upon their children that this was a family secret, and leave it at that.

oooooooooo

Towards the end of that summer, both Harry and Fleur discovered something weird about their mother. Harry noticed that it was getting slightly more difficult for him to sit on her lap; it didn't feel as snuggly as it used to, as if he had to sit farther away. Fleur, on the other hand, noticed that her mother was getting bigger in the belly. She thought very hard about this, and, with the tact that only an eight-year-old can show, asked about it.

"Mama, are you getting fat?"

Giselle was in the middle of dressing when the impertinent question came. She hesitated for a moment, then continued pulling on the dress she had chosen. "Why do you ask?"

Fleur rolled her eyes, something she was entirely too good at for a girl of her age, and, in an exasperated voice, said, "Mama, your tummy is poking out more. That means you're getting fat."

Giselle smiled, and continued preparing for the day. "Fleur, darling, can't you think of any other reasons I might be getting a bigger stomach?"

Fleur's cute face wrinkled up as she thought about this suggestion. She sat down on the floor, so as to be able to concentrate completely on the subject. After three or four minutes had gone by, she looked up and shook her head. "No, Mama, unless you swallowed a watermelon seed and it's growing in there. But Papa says that that doesn't really happen, and Antoinette was just teasing. Was Antoinette telling the truth?"

"No, ma cherie, watermelon seeds don't grow in our stomachs. What kind of nonsense is Antoinette trying to feed you?"

Fleur shrugged halfheartedly and didn't answer.

Giselle smiled and turned back to her jewelry case. "Fleur, have you ever wondered where babies come from?"

The young girl blinked at this, in her opinion, abrupt change of subject. "Why? Aren't you going to answer my question?" She started to put on the pout and big eyes that never failed to melt her father's heart, but her mother just laughed.

"Come now, my girl, you don't really think that will work with me, do you? I taught you how to do that."

Fleur's face went from pouting to disgruntled, and Giselle sighed. "Come here, my sweet, and we'll have a talk. It's time you knew something."

The two part-Veelas sat together and talked for quite some time, Giselle explaining the miracle of life and babies, and Fleur alternately declaiming the entire idea as disgusting, and excitedly asking for more details, depending on whether the topic was mechanics, or end-products.

At the end of the discussion, Fleur excitedly jumped up. "Can I tell Antoinette that I'm going to be a big sister again? She thinks having a pony is the best, but she'll be soooo jealous!"

Giselle chuckled. "Well, maybe in a little bit, dear. We still have quite some time to go before you get your little sister or brother, and your papa and I wanted to keep it a secret for awhile longer." Noticing the disappointed look in Fleur's eyes, she relented slightly. "How about if you tell Harry—he doesn't know yet."

Fleur's sadness immediately vanished as she squealed in delight. And without saying anything else, she ran out of the room to find her dear little brother.

Harry wasn't as excited as Fleur was for the impending birth of a little sister. But he wasn't upset about it. After all, Fleur was a great big sister to him, when she wasn't trying to get him to play horsies with her, since he always had to be the horse, and he was getting rather tired of the saddle, so he had no reason to think he wouldn't like a little sister too.

oooooooooo

In the coming months, Giselle and Pierre both found it within themselves, occasionally, to lament their children finding out about the impending arrival of their sister so early in the pregnancy. Harry and Fleur asked at least once a day if this was the day little Gabrielle was coming to their family. Even the reminder that she probably wouldn't come until after Christmas failed to stifle their curiosity, chiefly due to the word "probably" in the remonstrances.

But, finally, the day came when Giselle went into labor. Pierre called the mid-wife, who was a close friend of the family, and she came and assisted with the birth. Pierre compared this birth to the previous births of his children, and found himself very grateful for the advances in magical midwifery, that made it possible to take away the pain that his dear wife was feeling. He still winced remembering how frantic he was to make his wife just stop hurting, and the crushing guilt he felt for putting her through that. Truth be told, he hadn't wanted to put her through that torture again, but Giselle had always wanted more children, and finally turned him around to her way of thinking. Remembering the past like this made the loss of Madeline even more poignant, but he pushed back that pain, as he always did, and concentrated on the fact that he had a beautiful daughter and a delightful son. And, if the crying coming from upstairs was any indication, yet another wonderful daughter to spoil and care for. And, judging by the date, February 14th, she'd definitely be a heartbreaker.

Harry's reaction upon meeting Gabrielle for the first time was predictable. "She's pretty, Mama, but why can't I play with her?"

Fleur, in her much-more-mature mode, explained to Harry that little Gabby still had to sleep a lot, and they'd have to be content in dressing her up and feeding her biscuits. This prompted a very kind father-children discussion about what were appropriate activities for babies to be involved in, and a firm decree that they must clear any activities with a parent if it hadn't already been approved.

Gabrielle proved to be a stunningly beautiful child. But then, Veela children tended to be, and Fleur had been also, so this wasn't a surprise. What _was_ a surprise was how much both Harry and Fleur adored her. Harry had a naturally loving disposition, the short time of living with his aunt and uncle having, thankfully, failed to damage that, and enjoyed spending time with his little sister. Fleur was only slightly less well-disposed towards Gabrielle, and that was only because Antoinette had told her once that "little sisters always steal your makeup". Fleur knew what makeup was, and wasn't sure why a baby would want to steal it. It didn't cross her mind, until her mother mentioned it, that Antoinette really didn't know what she was talking about, since she was an only child.

oooooooooo

The years passed for the three Delacour children, and they grew together, fought and made up, and learned together, as children are wont to do. The spring of 1988, however, marked a major turning point in Fleur's life.

"Mama! Mama!" Fleur came yelling into the house. She had been down to the corner market, something that Giselle had, with trepidation, started allowing her to do when she had turned eleven that January.

"Merciful heaven, my girl, why are you screeching about like a bansidhe?" Giselle had been sitting down to a cup of cocoa in the sun room, and wasn't thrilled to have had her quiet ruminations interrupted by her daughter. Of course, she shouldn't really have been surprised--Fleur and Harry tended to play loudly, and that always set Gabrielle off too, so the Delacour residence was frequently the site of a full-on ruckus. But Gabrielle was having a nap, and Pierre had taken Harry to see a Quidditch match, something the young boy had been rather anticipating for most of the week now, so Giselle could be forgiven for expecting a little more time for herself.

"But, Mama, the man was just staring at me, and smiling! Then he started saying things--it was really weird!" Fleur sounded and looked more disturbed than anything else.

Giselle sat back in her chair and thought for a bit. She had been expecting this, and truthfully was a little surprised it hadn't happened earlier, but now it was here, and she needed to take care of the matter. Thankful that Gabrielle was still sleeping, she rang for the house-elf. Peti appeared with a muted 'pop', and said, "Yes Madame, what do you require?"

"Peti, will you please bring us a light snack, perhaps some eclairs--" Fleur grinned at hearing this; it must be a Special Talk they were going to have now, "--and perhaps some guaraná?"

Peti curtsied with a soft, "Of course, Ma'am," and hurried away to the kitchen to prepare the requested snack.

Fleur looked at her mother expectantly. Giselle gestured Fleur to a chair close to herself, and waited while her daughter sat. "Fleur, there are some things I need to teach you about being a Veela."

The young girl smiled--she had asked her mother to explain what a Veela was many times over the past couple of years, and her mother had always put her off, telling her that she would explain everything when the time was right. Apparently, now was the time, although she wasn't sure exactly how this conversation should follow from the happenings at the market.

Her mother laughed softly. "Yes, I know, ma chere, you have been wanting to know for quite some time what it means to be a Veela. And now is the perfect time. The boys are gone, and Gabby is asleep, so we shouldn't be bothered for quite some time.

"Now, first, I have to tell you a story. Many, many years ago, there was a family of large birds. They were known as the Vell. They were very smart, and very powerful, and very beautiful. One day, the King of the Vell found himself being inexplicably drawn to a very beautiful human maiden walking through the woods. Now, one of the powers that the Vell had was that they could turn into something that looked a lot like a human."

Fleur exclaimed, "I know, I know! He fell in love with the girl! Right?"

Giselle smiled. "Yes, dear, he did. He changed into his man-form, and approached the girl. She was initially very frightened, but the man who came to her was exceedingly handsome, so she conquered her fear and allowed the man to court her."

"Did they get married, Mama?"

"Yes, Fleur, they eventually got married. But, the Vell didn't do what humans do for marriage--they have something they call a Mating, or Bonding, which humans think is just like a marriage, but is much, much more. We'll talk about that in a bit, though, after we get done with our history lesson.

"Now, the King of the Vell brought this maiden back with him to see his people, and she was rather worried, because they were all birds. But at a command from the King, they changed into their human forms, and the girl lost her worry, but then felt rather abashed, because they were all so beautiful. The King noticed that she had become very, very quiet, and asked her what was wrong. The girl explained that she felt so very plain next to them, and that she knew he could never love someone as boring as she was. The King laughed at this, which caused no small amount of consternation to the young girl."

Peti popped in at that moment, with a silver tray, on which she had laid out a wide selection of croissants, eclairs, and bananas and dulce de leche. Peti's husband, Georges came with her, bearing the requested drinks. Giselle unfolded her legs, leaned forward, and took a croissant, knowing that her daughter would tease her endlessly if her first choice was something with chocolate. "Thank you, Peti, these look marvelous. And thank you, Georges, for your help too."

The little house elf smiled and curtsied, while her husband sketched a quick bow, then they left to the kitchen, where Peti was tending a soup on the stove.

Giselle took up her story again. "The King then explained to the human girl that the Vell had an inner drive, a push, to find one specific person to Bond with. And once they find that person, it doesn't matter who it is, or whether or not they are handsome, or beautiful, or even nice, they can either Bond with them, or deny the Bonding and never fall in love with anyone. Then the King explained that she was his Mate, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and would she Mate with him?

"Well, the young maiden blushed bright red, as the term _mate_ in human terms means something much baser and less noble than _Mate_ meant for the Vell, but she agreed, as she didn't have any other prospects, and, in fact, had fallen in love with him."

Fleur bounced in her chair, excitedly. "How romantic! Oh, do you think I'll find my Mate?"

Giselle grimaced at this. "Fleur, I certainly hope that you find a man with whom you can be happy. If you happen to find a Mate, then that would be wonderful, but not everyone does."

Her daughter looked confused. "But, Mama, you said that the Veela always have Mates, and they can't love anyone else."

"No, dearest, I didn't." Fleur looked incensed at her mother's seeming inconsistency. "Listen, my child. The Vell had that drive, but the _Veela_, which we are, aren't so bound by biology. There's a difference. Yes, we are descended from the Vell, but also from humans. This means that there are some differences. One of them has to do with the Bonding. Because we are Veela, the Bonding drive isn't consistent. Many Veela don't have a Bonding desire, and instead have the opportunity to choose whom they want to be with. Then it's left up to the individual to find a good person, their Chosen, with whom they can be happy."

"Does that mean that some Veela still have a Bonding drive?" Fleur asked.

"Yes, my dear, some of us do."

Fleur thought for a bit while Giselle peeled a banana and daintily anointed it with dulce de leche, an affectation she had acquired when she and Pierre had visited Punta del Este, when they were first married.

"Mama? Did you have to Mate with Papa?" Fleur looked a little hesitant at asking this question, as if afraid that her mother would be upset with her for her impertinence.

"That's an interesting question, ma cherie. What do you think?"

"Well, you two are obviously in love, so, does that mean you got to Choose him instead of _having_ to Mate with him?"

"Do you think that if your father was my Mate I wouldn't love him?" Giselle asked.

"Well, Aunt Marie chose to not follow her Mate, didn't she? I think it would be much better to not be Bonded." Fleur pronounced this last with the certainty that only an eleven-year-old girl can show.

"Your Aunt Marie is special, Fleur. She is one of the strongest people I know. Her Mate was a stuck-up snob who felt that blood purity was more important than anything."

Fleur interjected, "So he wouldn't have married Aunt Marie? Wouldn't mixing Veela blood with his make it less pure?"

"You're right, Fleur, he wouldn't have married her. If your Aunt Marie hadn't rejected the Bonding, she would have been his concubine, at best, and always an embarrassment to him. But Marie decided that she would rather live alone than have that kind of life, so she left him. She's lonely, yes, and won't ever be able to fall in love again. But I think she's much happier than she would have been." Giselle snickered at a thought that crossed her mind then.

"What's so funny, Mama? I think it's sad."

"Yes, Fleur, it _is_ sad that Aunt Marie is alone. But what I was laughing at was the way in which Marie repudiated the Bonding. You see, normally the Veela can just walk away from the Mate, and state that she rejects the Bonding, and that's that. But Marie was so disgusted by this man, that she called a press conference to do the repudiation. The look on Mal-- um, the face of the man was priceless, and it's taken him a long time to live down the stigma of having been rejected by a Veela. Of course, in England it's not such a big deal, but here in France everyone knows about Veela and their customs, and to have been rejected by one means that he's pretty much a laughingstock among the Magical community."

Fleur giggled at hearing this, but then sobered up. "You never answered my question, Mama. Are you Mated to Papa?"

"Yes, my dear, we are a Mated pair. But, as you can see, we were very lucky. I met him at school, and knew as soon as I saw him that he was my Mate. But, thankfully, even though it was very difficult, I was able to get to know him well before I had to tell him about the Bond. In fact, he told me he loved me before I even mentioned the Bond. That's when I knew we'd be happy together."

"Why was it difficult?"

"When a Veela sees their Mate for the first time, they are drawn towards him or her. When I saw your father, I had a great desire to just throw my arms around him, and kiss him, and never let him out of my sight again. Fighting that urge was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"But why did you fight it? I would have just given in, I think."

"But, you see, I wanted him to love me for who I was, not because of some biological urge, or because I was Mated to him. One of your many-times-great-grandmothers had done the easy thing—she just gave in to the Mating Drive, and that caused her to have occasional doubts about her husband. She was too blind to see his love for what it was, and always worried that he didn't really love her like she wanted him to. Her story is passed down as a caution to us to not rush things."

Fleur thought about that for awhile, as she desultorily nibbled on the last banana. Another question arose in her mind, then. "What if my destined Mate is already in love with someone else? I mean, how horrible would it be to finally find my one true Mate, and have him already be in love, or even," she gasped, "married? Would I have to be his concubine, or be lonely for the rest of my life?"

Giselle was impressed at the amount of thought that Fleur was giving to this discussion--she truly was ready for learning about her heritage. "One of the wonderful parts of a true Mating, Fleur, is that neither Mate really feels any desire for anyone else. When I was of an age that I could have been interested in boys, my Veela Bonding Drive kept me from even looking at anyone, until I met your father. But, correspondingly, he was never really interested in any other girls before meeting me. He says that he was rather worried about it--he even pondered the notion that he, um. . ."

"Used his wand with his other hand?" Fleur suggested.

"Where did you hear that phrase, ma cherie? That's a rather coarse way of putting it."

"Antoinette said it once, and I _told_ her that you wouldn't like it, but she wouldn't listen."

"Well, crude as it is, it gets the point across. Anyway, your father was worried for awhile, but since he couldn't find any desire for _anyone_, he reluctantly came to the conclusion that he just wasn't interested in romance, or love, or anything at all. But then, he saw me, and all those thoughts, and feelings, and hopes came rushing into his mind and body, and he felt, not only love, but a great relief. Of course, he didn't tell me this at the time, he made me work for it, but in the end, we were each utterly convinced that we were head-over-heels in love. And we haven't looked back since."

Fleur sighed, touched by the romance of her parents' love story. But then a thought crossed her mind. "Mama, do you think I'll have a Bonded?"

Giselle, who had known this question was going to come up, had an answer prepared. "Well, there's not really a way to know this young, unless you happen to meet your Mate. What will happen is that you'll either find yourself interested in dating more than one boy, throughout your adolescence, or else you'll find the idea of dating anyone repulsive, until you find your Mate. If you find yourself being attracted to more than one boy, then you don't have a Mate, and can choose whom you want to be with. If, however, there is one specific boy that makes your heart race, and whom you feel a strong pull towards, you can be pretty sure he's your Mate. The ultimate test comes if you can somehow kiss the boy whom you think is your Mate--when you kiss for the first time, you'll know for sure."

"But how, Mama? Will it feel different, or something?" Fleur had voiced this question through a mouthful of pastry, which made it somewhat garbled, and drew a disapproving glare from her mother.

"Cherie, that's rather uncouth, don't you think?" Fleur nodded, slightly ashamed, but much too interested in their discussion to let it interfere. "That's something that's rather individual, Fleur. When your father and I kissed for the first time, it was as though fireworks went off in my heart. That's not even close to what it felt like, but it's the only way I've ever been able to describe it. Your father says that for him it just felt like the best kiss he'd ever had, although he didn't really have that many to compare it with. For you it might be different. That is, if you have a Mate."

"Oh, what if I don't have a Mate?" Fleur wailed, having changed her opinion completely through the course of the discussion.

"Then you'll be able to be extremely happy anyway, dear. Having a Mate doesn't guarantee happiness, dear. Just look at your Aunt Marie--she would have been miserable. Your father and I, on the other hand, are happier than we ever could have thought possible. But, from what I've heard from Veela who haven't had Mates, they are in the same boat. Some of them are blissfully happy, and others aren't. The only difference is in finding your husband--those with Mates can only choose the one that their biology picks, whereas those without get to choose one by whatever method they want."

Fleur had to think about this for a while, Giselle could see, so she took that opportunity to slip out of the room to see if Pierre was home yet with Harry. The boys were just coming in, so she was able to explain to her husband what was going on, and warn him to steer clear for awhile, until the mother-daughter conversation was over.

The look on Pierre's face was a mixture of relief that he didn't have to sit in on the conversation, and chagrin that his daughter was old enough to actually have to have that discussion.

"Harry, Fleur and your mother are having a private chat. What do you say we go see if Gabby is awake, and go out for ice cream?"

Harry's smile, which was already bright from the one-on-one time he'd had with his father, grew even brighter. "All right! I'll go get her!" And with that, he raced up the stairs, trying manfully to take them two at a time, although it was a stretch for his eight-year-old legs.

"Wait, Harry! If she's asleep we don't want to . . .! Ah well, I guess she'll be awake anyway, after that." Taking advantage of their moment of peace, Pierre held his wife tightly, and kissed her deeply. "Mmmm, I've missed you, cherie. How's the talk going?"

Giselle shook her head a bit, to clear it from the incredible wave of love and desire that had washed over her at the kiss from her Mate, and cleared her throat. "Pretty well, actually. We're just about done discussing the Veela Bonding Drive, and I think she's realized that she can be happy whether or not she has a Mate."

Pierre pulled her even closer, and rested his forehead against hers. "Have I told you lately how happy I am that I'm your Mate?" he asked, in a low, husky voice.

Thrills ran through Giselle's body, making her wish that their children were already in bed, and she could spend some more quality time with the man she loved. Belatedly, she recognized the tone of his voice as a question. Embarrassed, she blushed and said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Pierre smirked at the effect he'd had on his wife. The benefits of having a Veela as a Mate were many, but the ones he loved most were the unquestioning love that he knew she had for him, and the strong drive that she had to be with him, both romantically and otherwise. Knowing this gave him a degree of influence over her body that was unmatched in normal human relationships, but both of them recognized this, accepted it, and, even more, reveled in it.

"Why, my dear, weren't you listening?" he asked, again in a deep, sensuous voice that he knew turned her knees to jelly.

Giselle's groan of desire was enough to make Pierre pull her even tighter against him, and kiss her again, more passionately. His suggestion to Harry forgotten for the moment, his thoughts turned to the possibility of getting the house elves to watch the children for a bit while he took her to bed. Luckily, his hands had only undone the top two buttons of the back of Giselle's dress when Harry came bounding down the stairs again.

"Papa, Papa! Gabby's awake, and we can go, but Gabby needs to go potty and she won't let me get her up and--" He noticed that his parents were blushing and holding each other very close, and automatically turned around, rolling his eyes. "So, can we go soon? Please? When you and Mama are done loving each other?"

Sighing resignedly at the interruption, but grateful that they hadn't been caught in a further state of dishevelment, Pierre finished buttoned his wife's dress, and turned to his son.

"Yes, Harry, we can go. Let's go get Gabby ready, shall we?"

With a last backward glance at Giselle, full of a promise for continuing their _loving each other_ that evening, Pierre climbed the stairs behind Harry.

Taking a minute to calm down, thinking wistfully of their honeymoon, when they were able to spend a week at the coast, without any interruptions, Giselle turned and went back in to continue her discussion with Fleur.

oooooooooo

After Fleur returned from a quick trip to the W.C., she had another question. "Mama, what does all this have to do with the creepy man at the market? Are you saying he's my Mate?" The shudder she produced at that thought was rather impressive, albeit much less impressive than the ones she'd be able to produce as she matured.

"Oh no!" Giselle answered. "That isn't even close to what kind of urges a Bonding produces. And remember, Fleur, in a Bonding, the Veela feels the pull even stronger than her Mate. I'm assuming that you didn't feel any kind of desire to get closer to that man?"

Fleur blanched, and shook her head vehemently. "Thank Merlin, no!", she exclaimed, which made Giselle smile before she went on.

"The reason that man was trying to talk to you and be closer to you is something called the Veela Allure. It is as much a curse as it is a blessing, but it's one of the most well-known and widely recognized traits of the Veela. Have you heard of it?"

Fleur, with difficulty, only bounced in her chair once. She had done as much studying in the Chateau Delacour library as she could, to try to discover all the wonderful secrets that she knew her mother was keeping from her, and was excited to show her mother what she knew.

"Well, I read the books in the library--" She broke off, not sure whether this was an allowable activity or not. She was rather heartened when her mother just smiled and nodded for her to go on. "They said that Veela are always very beautiful, and have this _allure_ thing, but I'm not sure I understand what that means. The dictionary says something about attraction, but I don't know what magnetics has to do with Veela." Giselle had to stifle a grin as she took in the perplexed look on her daughter's face.

"Did they say anything else about the Allure?" she asked, knowing that there had been more in those books, and wondering if Fleur had managed to find all the books that had been placed there for precisely this occasion.

"No, Mama, just a bunch of stories about men falling in love with Veelas and doing stupid things, like jumping out of the top seats of Quidditch stadiums, or--" her face brightened perceptibly as she remembered one of the other stories. "There was this one man, who wanted to show a Veela how much he loved her, so he decided to build something for her. He thought and thought and thought, and, for some strange reason decided that he'd make a huge wall to impress her. It didn't say why he chose that--do you think it was to keep her safe from other people? But, that wouldn't work 'cause they could just fly over it on their brooms." She thought for a bit more, then went on. "Anyway, so he commanded all his people to build this huge wall, and it goes on for just forever, and it's really high and strong. But the Veela didn't like the man, and went away to keep him from being stupid around her. Oh, Mama--is someone going to build a wall for me?" Fleur's face reflected a mix of emotions at this thought; part excitement that anyone could like her that much, but part disgust that someone could be that stupid.

Giselle smiled at this--she well remembered reading that same story, and was pleased that Fleur had researched as hard as she had. "Allure, my dear, is a word that means--"

"Attraction--I know, Mama, but I don't know what that has to do with me."

"Please don't interrupt, ma cherie, that's rather rude."

"Sorry, Mama," Fleur responded, shamefacedly. "But, I just want to know what's happening, and what my life will be like as a Veela!"

"I know, dear, I know. But, I promise I'll tell you everything you need to know before you need to know it, if you'll have patience." Giselle waited for Fleur's nod of assent before continuing.

"Now, my girl, _attraction_ can mean many things, but the thing we're interested in now is when a girl thinks a boy is interesting, or when a boy thinks a girl is pretty--that sort of thing."

"Oh! Just like Antoinette thinks Jason is hot, right?"

"Yes, Fleur, that's the right kind of attraction. Now, when a Veela comes of age, a couple of things happen--"

Fleur interrupted again, and Giselle sighed, giving up, temporarily, the battle for politeness. "What do you mean 'comes of age'?"

"It means that the traits, the special abilities and characteristics a Veela has that are different than humans, start to come out in full force. Some of them you've had for a long time, like being able to smell things really well."

"That's a Veela thing? I thought it was just a family thing!"

"No, dear, that's a Veela trait, and usually the first one to manifest. Do you remember how it was before I taught you the _Menos Odorificous_ charm?"

Fleur grimaced. "That was horrible, Mama, having to smell everything, all the time! And the stables! I thought I was going to have to give up liking horses!" That would truly have been a heart-breaking day for the girl, although her recent fascination with monkeys seemed likely to bump horses down to second-place for awhile.

"Yes, it was a great day when that charm was invented. With that spell our sense of smell is only _slightly_ better than a normal human's, which is nice, most of the time." She had to add that last, remembering a particularly vile cologne that she had had the misfortune of being subjected to at the last Ministry function.

"How else are we better than the others, Mama?" Fleur asked, hoping to find something exciting to help her feel better than Antoinette.

Giselle knew exactly what Fleur was thinking, and a small part of her remembered being in the same situation, as an eleven-year-old girl, and desperately wanting to believe she was better than _her_ childhood fair-weather friend. But the adult part of her made her say, "Now, Fleur, we aren't _better_ than the normal humans, just different. I don't want you running off to tell everyone that you're better than they are, understand?"

Fleur nodded her head, but her mother knew from the mischievous grin that Fleur was unsuccessfully trying to hide, that sometime in the future, there would be a rather acrimonious discussion between the two girls. Thankfully, with Fleur going off to Beauxbatons, while Antoinette started at the very exclusive Balthazar Johannes Stuyvesant School for the Magically Gifted in Amsterdam, their rivalry should diminish.

"But we were talking about the Veela Allure, weren't we?"

Fleur, an eclair-and-a-half ahead of her mother, swallowed and nodded.

"When a Veela comes of age, one of the things that happens is that he or she becomes very attractive to the opposite sex. For example, that man in the market saw you, and probably thought you were the most beautiful 11-year-old he had ever seen. And even more than that, he wanted to get to know you, to impress you."

"You mean, like the man who built the wall?" Fleur asked.

"Exactly, my dear. There is just something about Veela that attracts people like that. Lots of boys will act rather stupid when they're under the power of Veela Allure, and you can probably get them to do anything you want. Now, the interesting thing is that if you have a Mate, then that Bonding drive will protect him somewhat from Veela Allure. He will think you're beautiful, but he'll keep his senses about him, and probably not understand why everyone else around him is acting like an idiot. There are also some men who have rather strong minds, who will not be affected as much as the others. I would suggest that, if you don't have a Mate, that you try to find one of those strong-minded men. You want to be able to have a thinking man, rather than a love-besotted fool."

Fleur thought rather hard about this. "It seems kind of like they'd turn into my slaves. I could get them to do anything, couldn't I?"

"Yes, Fleur, you could use your Allure to make men do many stupid things. But, " and here Giselle's face grew very stern, and her voice became filled with steel, "you will _not_ use that power over men unless you are in danger, do you understand? If you do, then not only will your father and I punish you, but, depending on where you are, you could be arrested and jailed. England is such a benighted country that they classify the Veela Allure as being only slightly less heinous than the Imperius curse. Even though France is more civilized, it's still considered a form of unlawful compulsion."

Fleur's face had fallen slowly as her mother had explained these facts of a Veela's life, until she looked as if she were about to cry. "But, how am I going to stop it? I didn't even know what I was doing when the creepy guy at the market started staring at me!"

Giselle's look softened as she contemplated her daughter. This was definitely the reaction she'd wanted, as it meant she wouldn't have to worry about Fleur using her powers in such a way as to cause problems. "Fleur, my dear, it's not as horrible as all that. I will teach you how to control your powers, to dampen them down so that the people around you aren't affected by them. You can't turn off the part that makes men think you are beautiful, but you can learn how to mask the part that makes men do stupid things around you. It will take awhile to learn, and it's something you have to work on quite a bit, until it becomes second nature, but I'll be with you, and I have no doubts you'll be able to manage this before you go off to school in the fall."

Fleur stifled a sob and climbed into her mother's arms. After a few minutes of consolation, she raised a tear-stained face and said, "Mother, why did we have to be Veela? It just seems so hard for us. So far, all I see is that we can smell things really well, and people think we're beautiful. But then we have this power that is illegal, so we have to keep it turned off. Granted, everyone will think I'm beautiful. . ." she continued under her breath, although Giselle heard her anyway, "more beautiful than Antoinette." Louder she said, "but it just seems like a lot of bother."

Giselle gave her daughter's complaints the contemplation they deserved. "Fleur, my dear, I can see why you would think that. We've truly talked about some things that come across as being unpleasant. But, there are some offsetting benefits that I need to explain also, and, in my mind, they more than make up for any perceived negatives. To start, can you think of any other Veela traits that we haven't discussed?"

Fleur pushed aside her worries and thought back to her readings. "Well, the books talked a little about birds, but it wasn't very clear what they meant. Do we really turn into birds?"

Giselle chuckled a little, and said, "Yes, that's true, but it doesn't really tell the whole story. First, do you know what Animagi are?"

Fleur thought, then shook her head. Deciding she was okay for the time being, she got off her mother's lap, grabbed a bottle of guaraná, and reclaimed her own seat.

"An animagus is a person that can change into an animal. In doing so, they gain all the characteristics, both physical and mental, of the animal, but still have a human mind guiding them. For example, someone who is an owl animagus can fly, see things a long way away, and, just like our post owls, find people using their inner sense."

Fleur's smile broke through any lingering fears. "That sounds wonderful, Mama! Can I become an animagus? Please?"

Giselle smiled, and nodded. "Yes, ma cherie, you can. But the animagus capabilities that we Veela have are slightly different than normal animagi. For one thing, we Veela only ever turn into birds. But, as birds, we are quite a bit more capable than normal bird animagi."

Fleur looked at her mother in anticipation. "Well, what's the difference?"

Giselle smiled, and stretched. "Hmmm, I think it's time for a little break. Aren't you tired of talking all afternoon?"

Fleur gasped. "Mama! You can't be serious! No! You have to tell me about the birds, you can't just say something like that and refuse to explain it! Please!"

Giselle smirked, and Fleur realized that she had, once again, been successfully teased. Sometimes she wished her mother didn't have such a sneaky sense of humor.

"You're sure you don't want a break?" At Fleur's disgusted look, she chuckled, and continued her explanation. "We can use magic."

Fleur sat there and waited. And waited. And waited. Until. . . "So what!" She practically screamed, "We can use magic already!"

"Don't yell at me, young lady," Giselle said, in her best You-_will_-learn-how-to-be-a-proper-lady-even-if-it-kills-you tone. Fleur immediately shrank back into herself.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but. . . I don't understand. Why is it so cool that we can use magic?" By the end of this sentence, she had regained her equilibrium and was back to her normal level of self-assuredness.

"The wonderful part is, my dear, that we can use magic _while_ we are transformed into birds. Normal animagi can't do that--while they are transformed into their animal selves, their magic is bound up into keeping their animal shapes. Your father says that it takes effort at first, to make his magic continually exert itself to keep the form, but after awhile it becomes second nature. Regardless, while it's busy doing that, the wizard or witch can't do any other spells. We Veela, on the other hand, are not using our magic to maintain our form, as it is a natural part of us. So, we can cast any spells we want to."

Fleur's face had gone from interested curiosity to wondrous appreciation. "Wow, can I try right now? I want to be a spell-casting bird!"

Giselle smiled in appreciation of her daughter's enthusiasm, but said, "No, Fleur. It takes training and practice to be able to turn into a bird, and even more after that to be able to cast spells, since you have to learn to cast them without using normal language. If you practice hard, though, you'll probably be able to manage your bird form within a year or two."

Slightly disheartened, but eager nonetheless, Fleur asked, "What do I have to do to start learning?"

"Get angry."

"What?"

"Get angry. For some reason, perhaps because the Vell used their bird forms as weapons, it's easier to shift into your bird form when you're upset. Most Veela start out by learning the steps from their parents or some other Veela, then accidentally turning into a bird because they're furious at something or someone. There have even been some studies that show that learning how to do it without ever getting angry, while possible, takes significantly longer. Accessing your bird form through anger, although somewhat embarrassing, depending on the audience, means that you get a rather intimate, first-hand knowledge of what the change feels like. Having that knowledge means that you have a goal to shoot for, or a standard to reach."

"Mama," Fleur said, uncharacteristically hesitant. "Will you show me how you look as a bird? Please?"

Giselle thought for a minute, but couldn't think of any good reason not to. "Okay, sweetheart, back up a bit."

With that, Fleur scooted back on the sofa, and Giselle took on a look of intense contemplation. After some seconds of effort, Fleur could see a slight change in the shape of her mother's nose. She thought it looked more like a beak than a nose now. But then, unfortunately, she blinked. When she opened her eyes, instead of her mother, there was a magnificent falcon. Its feathers were a deep, rich brown, interspersed with a grey that made them look rather distinguished. The sharp beak that she had first focused on looked like it was ready to eat some small, or even medium-sized, animal, and Fleur was a little frightened. But looking into the eyes, she could see her mother's love radiating out from the magnificent animal, and her fear left her.

She moved towards her mother, and tentatively put out a hand. Giselle ducked her head and put it under Fleur's hand, so that her daughter could feel the feathers, and become accustomed to the form she had taken.

After a few minutes of Fleur examining and stroking the beautiful creature, Giselle moved back from Fleur and turned back into her human form.

"That was brilliant, Mama! Thank you--you're so beautiful!" She thought for a bit; "Mama, has Papa seen you like this?"

Giselle, the calm, cool, collected, urbane, and well-bred woman that she was, blushed mightily. "Um, yes, he has, and he thinks it's beautiful. Now, let's talk about some of the other pluses to being a Veela, shall we?"

Fleur was mightily tempted to ask her mother about the blush, but was sidetracked by the prospect of new information. "Okay, what else can we do?"

Giselle, grateful that she hadn't had to explain about Pierre being an eagle animagus, and the rather enjoyable activities that they were able to engage in while in their bird forms, not all of which involved flying, continued.

"You already know about the last one I want to tell you about. Can you think of what it is?"

Fleur made a mental note to ask about any abilities that her mother _didn't_ want to tell her about, then tried to think about anything she could have already heard about that they hadn't discussed.

Giselle took advantage of her daughter's preoccupation to call for Peti. The little house-elf arrived with a subdued 'pop'. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Peti, I think we'll only be another 15 minutes or so. Has my husband come back home yet?"

"Oh yes, Ma'am, they has been home for awhile now. They is being upstairs reading stories. Miss Gabby was wanting to hear of Goldilocks and the Three Gryphons again."

"Very well, Peti, will we be ready for dinner soon?"

"Yes, Ma'am, whenever you and Miss Fleur are done we will be having dinner." The little house elf seemed very happy that she'd planned the timing correctly, but, to be fair, soup has quite a long range of time in which it can be referred to as _ready_.

"Thank you, Peti--please let my husband know that we'll be ready for dinner in about 15 minutes."

"Of course, Ma'am. Is there being anything else?"

"No, Peti, thank you for your help."

The little house-elf disappeared with another 'pop', and Giselle turned her attention back to her rather puzzled little girl.

"Have you figured out the other Veela trait?" Giselle asked.

"No, Mama, I can't!" she just about whined.

"Let me give you a hint--it's something you already do, but Papa doesn't."

Fleur thought for a bit more, then blushed--no, it couldn't be _that_--_all_ girls did that. She forced herself to think of anything other than The Most Embarrassing Talk Ever that she'd had with her mother the previous year, but still couldn't figure out what other trait she was missing.

She looked up at her mother. "I can't think of anything, Mama, what is it?"

"Fireballs."

"What!?" Fleur gasped, incredulous. "But, but, I've been doing that forever, how can that be a Veela trait?"

"Some Veela traits manifest early, my dear. Fire-casting is one of them that usually comes during childhood, as well as the acute sense of smell. Now, we've already talked quite a bit about your fireballs, and trained you in their use, but there's something else you need to know. Have you thrown any fire lately?"

Fleur shook her head.

"Okay. When a Veela comes of age, the fireballs that she is able to throw change too. What's the most you can burn with your fire now?"

"I can usually set wood on fire, Mama, but that's about it."

"That shows you have a fair amount of power. But you'll start noticing that your fire is getting hotter and hotter. This is why we have the Fire Room. The fireballs that I cast, when I'm most angry, are hot enough to vaporize steel." Fleur gasped. "Of course, that doesn't happen very often, as I don't have that much to be upset about, but, as you can see, it can be very dangerous to cast fire. I will set you some exercises to help you control the temperature of the fire that you throw, but between now and when school starts, you'll need to spend at least 15 minutes each day practicing in the Fire Room. Will you do that for me?"

Fleur, awed at the amount of power that came with being a Veela, just nodded, open-mouthed.

Giselle smiled, remembering back to her training, and the one time she had let her temper get the best of her. _I wonder_, she thought, _if they ever re-grew that grove of trees?_

Finally, Fleur shook her head and looked back at her mother. "Is that everything? Are there any other things I should know about being a Veela?" She asked this, remembering her mother's slight evasion, and hoping to persuade her mother that she was old enough to hear everything.

Giselle thought for a long moment. She didn't really want to get into the subject of a Veela's enhanced amorous nature. The fact was that Veela were very sensuous creatures, and the physical part of a Mated, or even a Chosen, relationship, was phenomenally important for the physical and mental well-being of the Veela. She had already given Fleur the Talk about pregnancy, and being a woman, so she didn't fear an unplanned grandchild, but did her little girl really need to hear more details about sex right now? No, she decided, she'd wait until next summer. Or maybe she'd just pay attention to Fleur's letters, and when she started seeing signs of an incipient relationship she'd swoop down and give her the lecture. But then, that was rather risky, wasn't it? What if she found her Mate this year? Reluctantly, she prepared herself to divulge the information that she knew Fleur needed.

"Okay, Fleur, there is one other thing." Fleur wiggled around in her seat, so as to be as comfortable as possible. She looked up at her mother, and--was that a blush?

"Now, Fleur, when you find yourself a boy that you want to be with, whether it's your Mate, or you've Chosen someone, your body will start to send out certain signals. One of the Vell inheritances is a very physically demonstrative nature."

Fleur's face mirrored quite a bit of confusion. "Umm, what are you talking about?"

Giselle sighed, then straightened up. "Okay, time to be blunt. When you've found someone, and either Chosen them, or realized they're your Mate, you're going to want to be with them all the time. You'll want to touch them, a lot, and kiss them, and, well, you're going to want to sleep with them. Our biology makes us very sensual creatures, and that is both a blessing and a curse."

Through a truly impressive blush, Fleur managed to ask, "How can it be both? It seems like a great thing, to me!" Realizing just what she'd said, she backpedaled; "I mean, it seems like it might be good, even though I've never really thought about it, and it's certainly not something I'd want to do anytime soon, even if Antoinette. . ." She trailed off, remembering that the first rule of holes was that if you found yourself in one, you should stop digging.

Ignoring the comment about Antoinette, Giselle answered, "Well, consider this--you're sitting in your Potions class, and your Mate sits down next to you. You're going to have to spend the next two hours, in close proximity to the love of your life, but unable to act on any of those desires, or else you'll get a reprimand from your teacher, if not a detention. Now, multiply that by a thousand for all the other classes, and the times you'll see him in the halls, or at dinner. And let's add in the fact that maybe you're only twelve, and it is highly inappropriate to act on those feelings the way you'll want to. Can you see how much of a strain this could be?"

Fleur's face had drained of all color. "That's horrible, Mama! Oh, I don't want to go to school--what if I find my Mate the first day?"

Giselle reached out and picked her daughter up, showing surprising strength in the feat. Placing the girl in her lap, she slowly started stroking her hair. "It's not so bad, ma cherie. The benefits are incredible too. Once you're able to be with your Mate, or your Chosen, being together, both physically and otherwise, will be worth all the stress that you've gone through. Your father and I have the most loving, wonderful relationship I've ever seen in a married couple, and our bedroom life is--"

"Ewww, Mother! I don't want to hear about you and Dad in _that_ way! Yuck!"

Giselle chuckled and pulled her daughter close again. "Okay, I won't tell you any more about that. But, let me explain something else. If you do, indeed, find a Mate, then by ancient law, you can marry him as soon as you want, no matter your age. The Magical Community of France recognized, long ago, that keeping a Veela away from her Mate was cruel, unusual, and unneeded punishment. So, there are some mitigating rules that have been made to help you. And, once you're married to your Mate, you can satisfy those desires appropriately, and it will make being with him in public much easier. If you have, instead, a Chosen, then you have a little more time. You won't find a Chosen until later in your adolescence, so you can grow into a relationship with him, and make the necessary preparations for marriage."

Fleur sat huddled on her mother's lap for a while longer, digesting the great amount of information that had been given her over the course of the day. Eventually she shifted, and moved away from the warm embrace of her mother. "Mum, is there anything else you need to tell me?"

Giselle could tell from the apprehensive look on her face that Fleur was hoping the answer was "no". She tightened her arms a bit more, gave her daughter a brief hug, and let her go. "No, sweetheart, that's all. Are you going to be okay?"

Fleur nodded quickly, then thought, then nodded again. "Yes, Mama, but, I might have questions. . ." She trailed off, hope in the tone of her voice.

"Of course, my child, any question you might have about growing up Veela, or human, for that matter, you can owl me, or even ask the Headmistress for permission to Floo-call me. She knows about Veela, having had a few come through the school already."

Fleur hugged her mother close once more, and stood up. "Well, that was quite, um, enlightening. I'm not really sure what to think." Then a thought seemed to strike her as funny.

Giselle raised an eyebrow. "Okay, what's that evil grin for?"

"Oh, I'm just looking forward to the time when you have to have this talk with Harry."

oooooooooo

"Mama, are you sure I'm going to be able to go to Beauxbatons?"

Giselle sighed in resignation. "Oh, my flower, why are you so worried? We've talked about this probably a dozen times now. You are a powerful witch, and France is not such a backward country that anyone would try to keep a part-Veela from getting an education. Why wouldn't you be accepted there?"

Fleur climbed up on her mother's lap, which was starting to become a rather precarious proposition, as Fleur had all the signs of inheriting her Grand-mere's stature. "But, Antoinette told me that Gustav had told her that Jean-Paul had told him that they were going to make a rule that only certain people can attend, and maybe I won't be one of them."

Not for the first time did her mother wish that Fleur had been able to make friends with someone a bit more . . . _intelligent_ was probably going a bit too far, but perhaps _wise_ would suffice. "Fleur, listen closely to me. You know where your father works, right?" Fleur nodded. "Don't you think he would have heard about anything like that?" Fleur nodded once again. "Okay, then I don't want to hear another word about it. You _will_ go to Beauxbatons, and you'll have a wonderful time."

Fleur nodded once, then hugged her mother, and ran back to her room to daydream again about finding a Mate.

Thankfully, the Beaxubatons acceptance letter arrived the next day, and Fleur changed from bothering her parents about attending school, to bothering her parents about going to La Rue Magique to purchase her supplies.

oooooooooo

Harry was not a happy boy. It had been two whole weeks since Fleur had gone off to Beauxbatons, and he missed her dreadfully. Of course, he wouldn't ever _say_ that to anyone, but it was obvious to Giselle and, after a hint from his wife, Pierre. Thinking to perhaps stun two birds with one spell, Pierre took the next day off work.

Harry, surprised and very pleased to see his father sitting at the breakfast table when he went down that morning, threw his arms around Pierre and questioned, very loudly, and unfortunately right in his ear, why he was home.

"Well, Harry, I was thinking. With Fleur gone," Pierre just barely caught the sad look that raced across Harry's face at this reminder, but ignored it and continued, "I thought maybe it was time I spent a day with my favorite son. Would that be okay with you?"

Harry's answer was a huge grin, and an even more enthusiastic hug. "All right! What are we going to do, Papa?"

"Want to learn how to fly?" was all Pierre had time to say before Harry had grabbed his hand and started pulling him, with surprising force, towards the clubhouse in back of Chateau Delacour, where the brooms were kept.

"You mean I'm old enough? I thought you said I had to wait until I was ten? Why did you change your mind? This is so awesome! I just _know_ I'll be the best flier ever, won't I, Papa? I bet I'll be able to fly rings around Fleur when she comes home for Christmas!"

Pierre just laughed, and congratulated himself on coming up with a wonderful way to pull Harry out of his sadness.

The flying lesson went as well as Pierre had hoped. He, himself, wasn't the best flier, preferring to Apparate, if at all possible, but he considered himself perfectly adequate to teach an 8-year old. To his chagrin, Harry surpassed his father's abilities after about half an hour. And, after a day of watching Harry do things that Pierre had never thought of, he decided that he'd need to hire a flying instructor as soon as possible, as Harry had a natural talent that boded quite well for a future in Quidditch.

Giselle and Pierre were very grateful for Harry's new-found skill on a broom—it certainly served to provide him something to focus on besides the absence of his beloved big sister. Eventually, the thrill of flying lessened to where Harry remembered that he was supposed to be missing Fleur (it was late November when this happened), and he brought the subject up to his mother.

"Mama, how is Fleur? It seems like forever since I've seen her. Does she know I can fly? Can we go visit her?" All these question tumbled out of Harry's mouth in much the same manner that he, himself, lived his life—all his twigs aligned for speed, as they referred to it.

Giselle chuckled, summoned a stack of letters from her desk, and handed them to Harry. "Yes, Harry dear, we've told her you can fly. She's doing well, and she writes quite often. She's planning on coming home for Christmas, and we thought maybe you two could go flying together."

Harry's face brightened at that prospect. "Yeah! Maybe we can race. Do you think I'll win? I think I will—she can't be as fast as me, can she?"

Giselle smiled at her son and answered, "Well, I don't know—she's taking flying at Beauxbatons, and she says she's learning a lot, so maybe she'll be faster than you. . ."

The look of disgust on Harry's face tested Giselle's ability to keep a straight face, but she was inwardly very glad that he had been able to find something he loved so much. "Harry, here are the letters she's written—why don't you sit down and read some of them, and maybe you can write back to her later."

"Okay!" and off he ran, to his favorite stuffed chair in the library—the one with the stag design worked into the leather.

_Dear Mama, Papa, Harry, and Gabby,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written before now—the first week here at school has been exhausting. Did you know that there are seven different dormitories? Well, I guess there are really fourteen, or maybe just one. Well, let me explain. All the students in my year share a common room, and there are stairs leading off from it to the dormitories. The girls' stairs go down and the boys stairs go up, and we're not supposed to go into the boys' dorms. I don't know why though, it's not like I want to see where those pigs sleep. Oh, Harry, I don't mean that __**all**__ boys are pigs, but most of the boys here certainly seem to be such._

_I asked one of the older students why the girls had to go down to their rooms, but all she said was something about not being able to wear knee-length skirts otherwise. Mama, what did she mean by that? If it's so hard to walk up the stairs while wearing knee-length skirts, why do we even **have** stairs?  
_

_Anyway, like I said, there's the first-year common room, but there's a door in the wall that leads to the second-year common-room, which is set up the same way. I think it's really neat, because if I get stuck on an assignment, and no-one in my year knows the answer, I can go next door and talk to someone who's already taken the class! The common room also has some littler rooms opening off of it, so if it's too noisy you can go study somewhere else.  
_

_There are prefects who are kind of like students in charge for each year. Well, except for us first years. I guess we don't know enough to be in charge. But next year they'll pick a couple of girls in my year, and a couple of boys (yuck) to be prefects. Maybe I'll put my name down. . . Anyway, we have to obey the prefects if they tell us to do something, or, more frequently, to stop doing something. But if there's one who's being stupid, we can just go talk to an older one and get him in trouble. So we don't have to put up with idiots who have been made prefect._

_The classes are simply amazing. I think my favorite is Transfiguration, especially the idea of turning a person into an animal (right Mama?). I seem to do pretty well in it, although Mme. Ginger (which I think is a rather strange name) has set me a three-foot essay on why it's easier to transform a match into a toothpick than into a needle. I hate homework!_

_Potions is okay, although it's strange to think that our potions can come from such foul-smelling ingredients and still taste so pleasant. Astronomy is all right, but I don't like getting up in the middle of the night to look at the stars. Can you buy me an orrery? Please?_

_Magical Law and Custom is rather easy—it's all simple stuff, really. Papa, you've already taught me most of what is on the syllabus. But that's okay, it's nice to have an easier class. And, it's interesting to see what the teacher (M. Pend Oreille) says about things, and compare them to what you've told me._

_Defense is incredible—we might get to learn how to duel next term! So far we've learned a shield charm, and a disarming charm, and it's only been a week! Of course, I can't really do the disarming charm well, yet, but I'm practicing any chance I can get. But Marci, one of my room-mates—Oh, I didn't tell you about that. See, there are about 30 girls in my year, and about 27 boys, and that would make for a rather noisy bedroom, so they have us paired up into room-mates. Marci is mine, and she's really sweet. But, Marci isn't her real name, she just doesn't like her real name, so she wants to be called Marci. I don't mind—I don't think I could keep a straight face calling someone Buttercup. Anyway, Marci isn't so happy about my practicing the disarming charm, probably 'cause I kept disarming her from her toothbrush last night. Anyway, we are also going to start learning how to move and dodge bad spells, so it's a good thing I'm not fat!_

_And in Magical Creatures and Spirits we get to learn about dealing with evil creatures, like will o' wisps and gollums, and how to keep poltergeists from bothering us. But we also get to meet a unicorn! Some of the older girls were teasing us about unicorns, saying that we better _ hope_ we can meet unicorns, or we'd get in trouble, but I'm not sure I understand why—hopefully we'll find out soon._

_Anyway, next week we get to take an introductory Flying class, just to make sure we know how to ride a broom and not fall off. I already know that, so maybe they'll let us learn something more fun._

_Harry, I think you're going to love it here—I can't wait for you to come so we can be at school together! Of course, maybe I'll be a prefect and have to obey the rules—but that also means I'll know how to get around the rules, too! Oh, Mama, just kidding!!_

_Anyway, I love you all, give Gabby a kiss for me. I'll write more later!_

_Avec amour,_

_Fleur_

Harry sniffed back tears. The letter sounded so much like his big sister—it made him miss her even more, but it turned his sad missing into a happy missing. Yes, he missed her, but he was so happy that she was doing so well.

The rest of her letters felt the same and contained the same indomitable spirit of the older girl. She detailed more of her classes, the fun activities they had, visiting the local village and flying. One thing Harry didn't understand was about the boys that seemed to bother Fleur:

_Mama, I think I can definitely tell you some things about me, if you know what I mean. First, I don't think I have a Mate—there are a LOT of interesting boys here (mostly NOT in my year) that I'd like to get to know better. _(This part of the letter gave Pierre quite a fright until Giselle explained what she probably meant and calmed his fears.)_ And second—the Allure is definitely working; I have to work really hard to keep it calm enough so that I can get to class without all these besotted idiots following me around. Once I forgot, and three boys got into a fistfight over who got to clear my dishes from breakfast! And we have castle-elves to do that!_

Harry asked his mother to explain this to him, but she told him that it was something that she and Fleur had talked about before she left for school. She promised that she'd explain it all to Harry when it was time for him to go to school too.

oooooooooo

Christmas of Fleur's first year at Beauxbatons was a joyous occasion. As promised, Harry and Fleur got to fly together, although Harry was relegated to second place, probably due to the fact that Fleur had a new broom, the Aguila 9000, which clearly outstripped his Alante 702. Fleur was gracious in her win, and only made Harry clean her room for two days, a very generous lessening of the agreed-upon bet length of two weeks. Harry was tempted to argue with this, not wanting charity from his big sister. But, realizing that part of her win was due to the different brooms, he decided to accept Fleur's offer.

Harry was rather astounded on Christmas day, when, under the tree, was his very own Aguila. Granted, it was the 6000 model, which was a smaller broom, rather more suited to an 8-year old, but fast enough that Fleur repeatedly declined his offer for a re-match, preferring to enjoy her superiority as long as possible, knowing that the next time they raced, she'd probably have to turn on her Veela Allure full power to give her even a slim chance at winning. Of course, she figured that probably wouldn't work either, as he was her de facto brother, and the Allure tended to not work in familial relationships, which was, as she thought about it, probably a blessing.

oooooooooo

And so, the next couple of years passed. Fleur did indeed become prefect her second year, and performed admirably. She didn't feel it a crime to use limited, directed amounts of Allure to ensure proper behavior amongst the boys, and endeavored to never entrap the various and sundry boys with whom her circle of girlfriends fell in and out of love. They, for their part, understood, and never took it personally when one of their boys became briefly enamored with her, knowing that, while boys come and go, girlfriends last forever. She made the Quidditch team her third year, as a Beater, of all things, and bequeathed her Aguila to Harry, in favor of a Steadfast 200, the preferred Beater's broom, imported from the US.

Harry, for his part, grew like a weed, soon rivaling Giselle in height, and making him rather grateful for the larger Aguila. The letters that Fleur sent home sporadically (although never more than three weeks between) whetted his appetite more and more for being able to attend the glorious school that was Beauxbatons. Occasionally he thought about his birth parents, wondering about them, but he couldn't see how his life could be any better than it was now, so these ponderings, while wistful, never caused him undue pain.

And then came the year that Harry was finally old enough to attend Beauxbatons.

oooooooooo

A/N: First, I must apologize--I hadn't realized it had been five months since chapter 5. In that time I wrote and posted two other stories, as well as a bunch of 100-word drabbles, we all got the flu, and I had to travel on business. These are not excuses, just reasons. Hopefully I won't make you wait so long for the next chapter.

Second, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrasskerr. They truly are remarkable, aside from being very beautiful, and find things that I apparently can't.

And third, bananas with dulce de leche are a rare treat. I highly recommend them. Guaraná is a soft drink very popular in Brazil, Uruguay, and the surrounding region. It tastes something like a cross between cream soda and ginger ale. It also is one of the best sodas for inducing belching that I've ever found.


	7. Chapter 7, A Veela Goes to School

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 7, **A Veela Goes to School**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames ignored haughtily.

oooooooooo

The Hogwarts Letter Room was normally a rather quiet place. For nine months out of the year, the silence was unbroken. But starting in June it became a madhouse of frenetic, albeit largely unattended, activity. The magical quills, paper-folding golem-hands, and charmed response-talliers all kicked into action, guided by their connection to _The Register of Magical Children for England_. Normally, the only real living things in the room were the post owls, which lined up, in an orderly fashion, on a rail specifically provided for uninterrupted handing-off of letters to owls, and the subsequent departure of the feathered postal workers. This system had been working more-or-less perfectly for almost as long as Hogwarts had been around.

Albus Dumbledore rarely thought about the automated dissemination of Hogwarts letters, unless there was a problem. Problems were rather unwelcome in his masterfully-planned existence, so every year, when June rolled around, he sent a silent prayer to the four Founders that there wouldn't be any. . . _issues_ . . . with the letters. Well, it's probably safer to say that he sent a silent prayer to three of the four Founders--his relationship with the legacy of Salazar Slytherin was dicey at best, so he didn't feel like he should presume.

oooooooooo

"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" came the strident tones of the girl's mother. "Will you _please_ stop pacing! Go outside and run around the house three times, or go up to your room, or. . . I don't know, just don't do it in my kitchen!"

Molly Weasley was at her wit's end. Hogwarts letters were due to come this week--at least, that's what conventional wisdom predicted. This year, the family was expecting five, and that meant that, for the first time in who-knew-how-long, all of her children would be away from home. The children, of course, were eagerly anticipating said letters. Percy was desperately hoping to find a Prefect's badge in his envelope. The twins were excited to see if they were able to get into the classes they had requested. And Ron and Ginny, well, they were just hoping to receive anything at all.

Ron dealt with his anxiety by flying--his one great desire was to play Quidditch, and he spent inordinate amounts of time practicing out in the paddock. Molly wasn't sure how he did it--it was, after all, rather hard to practice Keeping with no-one playing the opposition. But there it was; he disappeared in the morning, after chores, and didn't show up until dinner. Well, he _did_ come in for a quick, and large, lunch, but was soon back out on the old Comet 80 that he had appropriated.

Ginny, though, was different. Molly snorted at that thought; of _course_ she was different! First of all, she was a girl. That, in itself, was enough to shout about in a family of all boys. Second, she hadn't come into their family the normal way. Molly smiled a bit, remembering Ginny's circumstances. Finding her had been absolutely wonderful. They had tried their hardest to find her parents, but with the limited monetary resources that they were blessed with, their _best_ was not as effective as it could have been. In her more contemplative times, Molly thought about what would happen if they ever found the family that had lost that poor baby girl those 10 years ago. Would they be mad at the Weasleys for presuming to adopt her? Would they want to take her away from them? Or would they be happy that their daughter had been cared for? Molly knew they hadn't been able to give her a lot of the comforts of life growing up, but she would argue vehemently that their children, and Ginny was just as much a part of the family as anyone else, had never lacked for that most important of intangibles--love. No, she decided, Ginny's birth parents would have to see that they had loved Ginny as their own, and raised her to be the wonderful girl that she was, and Ginny would be able to have two sets of parents who loved her dearly. Really, it was just like when she herself had gotten married. She had gained the wonderful Weasleys as her second set of parents and loved them just as much as she loved her own.

Ginny dealt with her anxiety by pacing. She paced a _lot_. Which, Molly supposed, was better than snapping at everyone, which was Percy's preferred method, or the twins' increasing their pranking to unheard-of levels. Honestly, Molly thought. Why they had felt the need to plant a Filibuster's Firework inside the flour canister she'd never understand. Not that it wasn't funny, mind you, but it certainly caused a mess!

Ginny's pacing had, thankfully, managed to carry the young girl out the back door into the garden. The gnomes thought this was great fun--_have to get the boys involved in degnoming sometime soon, their numbers were starting to increase too much_--and chased Ginny's feet as she strode around the paths. Molly sighed, sending up a prayer that the owls would hurry up so her children could have their concerns resolved.

It was precisely that moment that she heard Ron's voice. "They're here!" came his strident yell, followed by an equally exultant shriek from Ginny, and then two anxious bodies flew in through the back door--almost literally in Ron's case, as it looked like he had barely taken the time to dismount from his broom before coming inside.

Molly reached out and made sure the kitchen window was as wide open as it could go, and the majestic brown owl flew in and settled on the table. Attached to its leg were--

"Five letters!" Ginny yelled. "Ron, we got in! Our Hogwarts letters are here!" She was practically capering around the room, trying to drag Ron with her.

Ron was both happy that there was evidently a letter for him, and taken aback by the idea of _capering_. Finally managing to extricate himself from his sister's grasp, he rushed back to the table and started to untie the letters.

Fred and George, having heard Ginny's yell, chose that moment to join the excitement.

"Where are our letters?" Fred asked, while George just went straight to the source and tried to grab them out of Ron's hands.

"Let go, Fred!" Ron yelled, trying to shield the precious envelopes with his body.

"No, give them over, and I'm George, not Fred!"

The argument looked likely to degenerate into something more physical when the all-powerful hand of their mother descended into the midst of the fray, snatched all five envelopes, and rescued the poor beleaguered owl, which was hooting rather alarmingly and looking ready to take a significant piece out of the next hand to come too close to it.

"All right," Molly called, above all the arguing. "You've got two seconds to be quiet, or I keep the letters until tomorrow."

Complete and utter silence.

"Okay, Percy, here's yours."

The bespectacled young man took his, said a polite, "Thank you, Mum," and sat down at the far end of the table to open the all-important missive.

"Fred, yours is next. No, not you, George!" George sat back, disappointed, as Fred took his. But Fred waited until George had gotten his, and they both eagerly opened the flaps simultaneously, right in the middle of the room.

"Boys! Move over so your brother and sister can get theirs!"

The twins shuffled to the side slightly, but otherwise ignored the happenings in the room. Although, they almost looked up when they heard a very quiet, "Yes!" from Percy, as he had evidently gotten his Prefect's badge.

"Ron, here's yours, and Ginny, this one is for you."

Ten seconds later, Ginny's voice rang out, loud and clear, "I'm going to Hogwarts! I'm going to Hogwarts!"

Ron was just as excited as his sister, but, in the manner of all siblings, refused to act the same way as Ginny.

"Mum, when can we go to Diagon Alley? We need to pick up our books and supplies."

Molly smiled to herself as Ron asked the expected question. She knew her children very well, and although Ron was trying very hard to seem sophisticated, he was completely and unutterably incapable of hiding the fact that he was thrilled beyond belief to finally know for sure that he too was going to attend school.

"I believe we can go tomorrow, Ron, although I'll have to talk to your father."

Ron smiled, then rushed out of the kitchen, en route to his bedroom, where he re-read the Hogwarts letter seven times, before giving into the urge to yell out his happiness.

Fred and George, after hearing of the plans to go shopping the next day, had also disappeared, leaving the two Weasley women alone in the kitchen. Molly looked at her daughter, and saw a rather pensive look on her face, rather than the excitement that had been there previously. "Ginny, dear, what's the matter?"

Ginny looked up at her mother. "Mum, do you think. . . do you think Harry Potter will be at school this year too?"

Molly was surprised by the question, although she shouldn't have been. Ginny had always been interested in the story of Harry Potter, ever since she was old enough to understand when her father told it to her. Molly sat down at the table next to her daughter. "Why, sweetheart? Do you want to meet him?" Molly knew that her sons teased Ginny about her fascination with The-Boy-Who-Lived, accusing her of being in love with the almost-mythical hero, and she wondered whether it were really true.

"Yes, Mum, I do."

"Do you think he'll be cute?" Molly asked, in an attempt to figure out where her daughter was coming from.

"I don't know, Mum, but that doesn't matter, does it? I just want to be his friend. He lost his parents too, just like me."

Molly sat back, startled a little at the wisdom evident in Ginny's words. She found herself a little saddened by Ginny's explanation, and this must have shown on her face, as Ginny reacted instantly, throwing her arms around her mother.

"Oh, Mum, don't be sad! I love you and Daddy and everyone else. I just think that we would have a lot in common, not knowing who our real parents were, or how they felt about us, or anything. Maybe he'd like knowing that there was someone else like him." She smiled a bit. "And if he _is_ cute, then maybe I'll marry him someday."

Molly smiled a bit at the thought, then noticed the glint of mischief in Ginny's eyes, and realized that her little girl was teasing her. "Well, Ginny, I'm pretty sure he's the right age to start this year, so in all likelihood you'll get to meet him this year. Who knows? If you're sorted into the same House, you could get to be really good friends. And if he's in a different House, you can still be his friend, right?"

"Right, Mum. Because--" Ginny adopted the tone of a mother lecturing her child, "--it doesn't matter what House you're sorted into, it just matters that you do your best."

Molly chuckled. "That's right, Ginny. After all, there's been wonderful people from all Houses, and all the Houses have had their share of people who weren't so nice. Now, what would you think about picking out some clothes to wear to Diagon Alley tomorrow? After all, you could actually see Harry Potter there. . ."

Ginny squealed and ran upstairs, much faster than her mother, who tried gamely, but had given up expecting to keep up with her children long ago.

oooooooooo

The Hogwarts Letter Room was still as busy as it had been. After all, it took quite some time to send out all the necessary letters. And then, of course, there were the letters that didn't get opened within 24 hours, and had to be re-sent. If all went well, and all the intended recipients had opened their letters, then the Letter Room could subside back into its normal quiet. Of course, normally the Letter Room was busy up through the third week of August, and it had been quite some time, measured in centuries, since the last time it had managed to get its tasks finished before even the end of the first week of August. This year was no different.

oooooooooo

The denizens of the Leaky Cauldron were used to families popping out of the Floo--after all, it was the main Floo entrance to Diagon Alley. Thankfully, there was a cordoned-off area for these Floo travelers to arrive in after their journey, complete with brushes for those unwilling or unable to cast a _Scourgify_ after their trip. The Weasley family, very adept at Flooing, arrived one after the other in short order, marshaled their not inconsiderable forces, and headed off to do their school shopping. It was to be an abnormally expensive trip, as they had never had five children at Hogwarts all at once before, but Arthur and Molly had anticipated that, and had been saving up for the expenditures.

As was tradition, Ron and Ginny were given the opportunity to choose something special as their "starting Hogwarts" gift. Ron, who was absolutely horrified at arriving at school with patched and frayed robes, chose to get new school robes. Ginny, who didn't really mind what she wore, as long as it covered a majority of the important parts, decided that what she really wanted was a new wand. Therefore, Molly took Ron and the Twins with her to do robe- and book-shopping, and Arthur took Percy and Ginny to do Potions ingredients- and wand-shopping. They made an agreement to meet at Quality Quidditch Supplies in an hour, where they would regroup and decide the rest of the day's activities.

"Come along, Ronald, Fred, George--no lollygagging. Fred! I see those firecrackers--give them here!" Molly's dulcet tones trailed off as the two groups separated.

"Daddy," Ginny asked, as she walked along, holding his hand. "What kind of wand do you think I'll get?"

Arthur smiled at his daughter, thankful once again that he'd been blessed with such a bright spirit in his life when he'd believed he'd never be able to have a girl. "Well, my dear, the Weasley family has usually been partial to unicorn-hair wands. The woods usually are light-colored, although I remember my father had a mahogany one. What kind do you think you might get?" He asked this, knowing that there was really no way of predicting, but interested to see if his daughter had given any thought to it.

"I don't know, Daddy. Unicorns are sure pretty, and I'd like to meet one, but I think dragons are cool too. What other kinds of wand cores are there?"

Percy decided that now was the time to interject his own self-importance. "Well, you see, Ginevra--"

"Ginny!" the little girl interrupted. "My name is Ginny! Or are you fond of being called Percival?"

"Fine, then," he sniffed. "_Ginny_, Ollivander usually uses dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or occasionally phoenix feather, although those are rather rare. Wandmakers tend to prefer a certain set of magical cores, so if you were to get an imported wand, then it might have something as different as an Acromantula silk thread, or a drop of basilisk venom." The older boy shuddered at the thought of this.

"Really?" Ginny was very interested. "What if I have a strange wand like that, Daddy? Wouldn't that be brilliant?"

Arthur smiled down at her again. "The really important thing to remember, Ginny-girl, is that the wand chooses the wizard or witch. So, as long as you find one that chooses to work with you, then you'll be all set."

"But Ron isn't going to find one like that, is he? Won't that make it harder for him to do magic?"

"Perhaps, sweetheart. The one we have for him belonged to his great-uncle, Ernest Borgnine Weasley, and he was a lot like your brother, so maybe it'll be a good fit for him. If it doesn't work very well for him, then he'll need to save up and get a different one next year."

As the three Weasleys were walking toward Ollivander's, they happened to pass Eeylops Owl Emporium. On display in the window was an incredibly beautiful snowy white owl, with just a smattering of black flecks. Ginny stopped, transfixed at the beautiful creature. The owl, recognizing that it was being admired, preened itself a bit, and shook out its feathers, as if saying _Thank you for acknowledging that I'm beautiful_.

Ginny couldn't help it, she squeed. Arthur, well-used to the vagaries of his youngest child, stopped to look at the owl too. "That surely is a beautiful owl, Ginny. She'd be a real gift for someone, wouldn't she?"

Percy was a little frustrated at how long they were taking to get to their destination, but as he cleared his throat, his father turned to him with That Look, and the boy subsided.

"Oh, Daddy, if I ever have an owl, I want one like that!"

"Well, Ginny-girl, maybe someday we'll be able to get you something like that. Until then, we'll just have to make do with Errol. Now, shall we head on down to Ollivander's?"

"I guess so. Can we bring Mum back to see the owl, Daddy? Please?"

"Of course, dear, when we're all done with our shopping."

Mollified, the red-headed girl skipped off down the way towards the wand store.

When the Weasleys arrived at Ollivander's, they found the old man standing behind the counter, lost in thought. "Curious," he was saying, "very curious."

"What's curious, Mr. Ollivander?" Arthur politely inquired.

Startled out of his reverie, the old man jumped slightly. "Eh? What's that?"

"I just asked what was curious," Arthur responded.

"Oh, nothing important, just a wand I thought would never sell finally found its owner." He went on briskly, changing the subject, "Now, who do we have here? A Weasley daughter, eh? What's your name, miss?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley, sir," Ginny answered, taking courage from her father's warm presence behind her. "But I go by Ginny, if you please."

"So, Ginny Weasley. You certainly have the Weasley hair, but I must say, it looks much more fetching on you than on your brothers, especially the length you have it."

Ollivander's conversation served admirably in distracting Ginny from the measuring tape that was flying all around her, measuring the width of her right knee and the length of her left ear. After noting the distance between her left big toe and the dimple in her right cheek, the tape measure wrapped itself up and fell, with a soft _floomph_ into its box on the counter, startling Ginny.

Meanwhile, Ollivander had brought a stack of long, thin boxes out and opened the top one. "Here, try this one. Maple, with a dragon heartstring, 11 inches, very sturdy."

Ginny took the wand, but it jumped out of her hand and landed back in the box. She jumped a bit, and Ollivander chuckled. "Nope, obviously not that one. Try this one; 8 inches, yew and unicorn hair."

This wand didn't seem to like Ginny either, although with less passion than the first, as it just lay in Ginny's hand, not reacting in the slightest to her gesticulations.

Wand after wand was handed to the redhead, some seeming a little more lifelike than others, but none judged to be acceptable by the old wand-maker. It seemed that he might actually be stumped this time, as his muttering was getting slightly less cheerful as he went through his stock. Finally he stopped handing wands to Ginny, and leaned against the counter. "Well, Miss Weasley, you are a tricky customer. The Weasley predilection doesn't seem to hold true for you, and I haven't been able to detect any affinity towards either dragon heartstrings or phoenix feathers." A thought seemed to strike him at that moment. "No, it couldn't be, could it?" He spun around, surprisingly sprightly for a man of his advanced years, and rushed to the back, returning soon with a wand in a holster.

"The last customer had bought a wand that wasn't entirely suited for him, and when he found one here that was better, he traded this one in. In all the fuss, he didn't tell me what was in it, but I _can_ say that it's a foreign-made wand, probably from France. Why don't you try it?"

Ginny reached out to take the wand from Ollivander, and as her hand neared it, the beautiful yellow and white wood seemed to _wriggle_ slightly, then jump into Ginny's hand. No-one else seemed to see it, as no-one commented, but Ginny very distinctly felt the movement. As she raised her hand to try out the wand, a beautiful sound filled the room, as if an arpeggio had been struck on a harp of a thousand strings. A warmth spread through Ginny's arm, and she exclaimed, "How beautiful! Can I keep it?"

Arthur and Ollivander both chuckled. "Yes, my dear, that most certainly is your wand. I haven't seen such a good fit since, well, since the previous customer. But before that, it has been close to 35 years since I've seen such a wonderful match."

Wand chosen, Arthur moved forward. "How much do we owe you for the wand, Mr. Ollivander?"

The old man wrinkled his forehead in thought. "Well, I have to be honest--as I said, I got that wand in trade from my last customer, and I'm not sure what he paid for it. So, shall we say five galleons? And I'll throw in the wand holster?"

Arthur was amazed; wands almost always cost at least seven galleons, and he'd expected this one to be even more because of its beauty. But his amazement didn't interfere with his quick agreement.

Wand in hand, and huge smile on her face, Ginny led the other two out of the wand shop, and they headed toward the apothecary.

oooooooooo

The family reunited, as agreed, at the Quidditch store, where all the children, minus Percy, immediately rushed inside to admire the new Nimbus 2000. Arthur had had a very pleasant morning, although the smell of the apothecary always made him a little queasy. From the looks of her hair, tendrils falling across her face and her bun coming loose, Molly hadn't.

"Arthur, I don't care what you say, next time, _you're_ taking the twins!"

Arthur wrapped his arms around his wife, held her close and whispered in her ear. "Fine, dear, but remember, you lost the bet." He backed away quickly as his hot-tempered wife took a quick swing at him, but he could see the small smile on her face as she did so.

They corralled the children again, and headed off to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. On the way Ginny dragged them over to see the beautiful white owl that she had seen on the way, but when they arrived at Eeylops, it was gone.

"Oh, Mum, it was so pretty! It looked like, I don't know, like a queen or something! Just watching out over the street like she owned it!"

"I'm sure it went to a good home, Ginny-girl," interjected Arthur.

"I hope so, Daddy, but what if her new owner doesn't take good care of her? I wish we could have bought her."

"How much was it, Arthur?" Molly asked, knowing that if it really was as nice an owl as Ginny said it would have been far beyond their price range. He confirmed her supposition, and they shared a small grimace. They were in no way unhappy with their lot in life, but there were times when they wished they could provide a little bit nicer of a life for their children.

"Well, Ginny, just think, when we go off to Hogwarts, you'll be able to see all sorts of owls there. And you might even try befriending one of the school owls--I bet they wouldn't mind you going up and talking to them," Fred said, hoping to cheer his little sister up.

She smiled, and the conversation continued over lunch, drifting widely and changing quickly as the children recounted their adventures of the past week.

oooooooooo

Minerva McGonagall was pleased. One of her favorite parts of the summer holidays was the middle of August, when she compiled the list of incoming first years. Of all the paperwork that she had to do, this was some of the more interesting. She enjoyed reading the replies of new students, reminiscing about previous siblings, or even parents, and thinking about the Muggleborns that she'd been able to meet. This year she was particularly excited about the incoming group, as she'd met a rather interesting Muggleborn who promised to be one of the brightest witches to ever come to Hogwarts. She took a moment to ponder whether the young Miss Granger would have any chance of going into any house _other_ than Ravenclaw, then gave it up as an unfruitful line of thought--no-one really understood everything about the Sorting Hat, even though it was possible to guess with some small degree of confidence.

Smiling slightly to herself, she sat down at her desk and took the top reply off the stack.

"Dean Thomas," she read. Ah yes, another Muggleborn--quite a delightful family, and he'd probably turn out rather handsome. His name was added to the list, and she took the next letter off the pile.

Seamus Finnegan's name was added next, and Minerva took a moment to watch the list re-alphabetize itself so that Finnegan, Seamus, was placed above Thomas, Dean.

On and on through the stack she went, pausing every so often to think about the incoming students. Susan Bones would be starting this year, she saw--poor girl, having lost her parents. But Amelia was a wonderful woman, and had done a great job raising her.

Ah, Draco Malfoy. . . she had wondered if he would be coming to Hogwarts, or going to Durmstrang, as she secretly hoped. "Well," she whispered, "maybe we can help him see the light."

Towards the bottom of the stack, she found letters from the Weasley family. These made her smile, and cringe a bit. "So, Ronald and Ginevra. That's right, they have two coming in this year. I just pray Merlin that they aren't like the other Twins." She sat a moment, thinking back to the various and sundry pranks that had been pulled the year before, her favorite being the time they had covered the walls of the Charms classroom with some type of paper with pictures of blue house-elves, which sang a rather annoying tune all day long. Poor Professor Flitwick had had to move classrooms for a day or two until he and the Headmaster were able to remove the offending paper.

Seeing the Weasleys' letters of acceptance sparked a thought in Minerva's mind. Weren't the youngest Weasleys about the same age as Harry Potter? She thought for a minute. The Boy-Who-Lived had been born on July 31st, 1980. This year was 1991, so he would have just turned eleven. Great gracious galloping trolls in tutus! Harry Potter was due to start Hogwarts this year! Minerva sat back with what was, for her, a rather large smile. James and Lily Potter had been a joy to teach. Well, if she were honest, Lily more so than James, although the latter had calmed down as he grew up. Any child of theirs had to have been blessed with a great deal of talent and ability. She wondered how the boy had done, growing up with those Muggles. Obviously there hadn't been too many problems; Albus wouldn't have left him there if there were anything to worry about. This refrain had been repeated often in the early days after the fall of Voldemort, as Minerva tried to trust that everything would work out for Harry. Over the years her worries had decreased significantly, as Albus had been able to show her the instruments monitoring the boy's welfare. Now, however, a renewed desire to visit Harry and make sure everything was okay began to grow in her heart.

She quickly rifled through the rest of the acceptance letters, looking for the one from him that she was sure had to be there. She didn't find it, and looked again. Still coming up empty, she quickly scanned her list of incoming first-years, just in case she had missed it, although she was pretty sure she would have noticed. Not finding his name there either, she started to meticulously examine each of the already-opened letters, in case one had been skipped, or stuck to the back of another. When this determined search still failed to unearth a letter from Harry Potter, Minerva started to worry in earnest. What could have happened to the boy?

After a minute or two, she decided to check the Hogwarts Letter Room. All Hogwarts letters were noted in a huge volume, showing who had been sent letters, when they had been sent, and how many. Minerva knew it was possible that Harry had never received any of his letters--she certainly wouldn't put it past some of the more-horrible Muggles to keep the letters away from their magical offspring, even if it meant barricading themselves inside their house. If that were the case for Harry, she would see a long list of letters being sent to the young man, and then they could take personal action. Maybe they should send Hagrid? She chuckled briefly at the thought. Sending Hagrid to a family that was trying to keep a magical child from attending Hogwarts would be like trying to kill a doxy with a hippogriff--sure, the doxy might die, but there would be a lot of other damage too. No, she'd go herself if it were needed.

These thoughts occupied her as she climbed the stairs to the Letter Room. It was in a rather small tower, the stairs to which were located to the left of the Headmaster's gargoyle, Darcy, and hidden behind a painting of a field of daisies, in which was frolicking, for reasons only known to the painter, a watermelon. Speaking the password, _Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder_, Minerva entered the stairway for the last climb.

The Letter Room was completely silent. No owls stood in line, no hands folded parchment, no quills moved over the various writing surfaces. This narrowed down the options. There were only a few different possibilities. The first, that Minerva had missed seeing the boy's response, had already been ruled out. The second was that the boy's horrid Muggle relatives were keeping the letter, or now it would be letters, from him. But if that were the case, there should be some type of activity in the Letter Room. The third was that Harry had received his letter, but hadn't done anything about it. This would be somewhat worrying, perhaps the boy didn't know how to send an owl, or something like that, in which case Minerva felt that the postulated visit might indeed need to take place.

The fourth possibility, that the student in question was dead, was one that the stern professor refused to think about, as it was too disturbing to even consider.

"Might as well check the list while I'm at it," Minerva said to herself. "Just to make sure a letter was sent out."

The indicated list was in one corner of the room, underneath a charmed quill. This year it was relatively short, indicating that there had been rather fewer re-sends than the last couple of years. Minerva picked up the parchment, and started scanning the names, moving quickly to the first-years section. She read through it, noting the names of the students that she'd already received responses from, then frowned. She read through it again, then a third time. There was no mistaking it; Harry Potter's name was nowhere to be found.

oooooooooo

"Albus, I'm telling you, his name isn't anywhere on the list, or in the replies!" Minerva was just about to her limit. No matter what she said, the Headmaster refused to allow himself to be fussed on the subject of Harry Potter. He had placed all his trust in his little monitoring instruments, and as long as they continued to report that the boy was happy and healthy, he wouldn't stir himself. But finally, finally she had at least managed to interest him.

"You checked the Sent Letter List, then, I assume?" the old man suggested, in a tone that would have gotten him more than just a glare if the Deputy Headmistress had been any less worried about the wayward boy.

"Of course I did, Albus. His name is just not there!"

"Well, I suppose we could have a look at the Register, then. I can't think of where else to investigate, unless. . . . No, we shouldn't do that unless there's absolutely no other option."

Minerva just about asked him to expound, but chose to save her strength for later, if it were needed. "Fine, then. Can you get the book down, please?"

Albus slowly arose from his desk and walked over to the large bookshelf that stood on the west end of his office. Reaching up to the top, he took down what had to be one of the oldest-looking books in the world. In truth it contained names spanning all the way back to almost the founding of Hogwarts, and without the strong self-levitation charm it would have been quite impossible for anyone to have lifted.

Placing it on his desk, Albus opened it to the correct section and started scanning through the names. "Abbot. . . yes, Finnegan--good Irish name, that. Granger. . . hmmm, don't recognize that name. Longbottom, ah yes, very interesting. Malfoy, of course. Patil and Patil--must be twins. . . And Thomas, that could be a first name or a last one, couldn't it? And Weasley, ah, I see two Weasleys."

Minerva had seen what Albus seemed to have missed. "Albus--that black line. It looks like. . . it looks like Harry Potter's name is crossed out." She looked up in shock. "What does that mean?"

The Headmaster's face had gone grey, the sparkle leaving his eyes. He sat down heavily. "Oh, Minerva, I've only seen this a few times before. How could it have happened? He's supposed to be safe there!"

"Albus!" Minerva interrupted. "What are you talking about?" She was starting to get rather worried about this.

Headmaster Dumbledore raised his head wearily. "The only time I've ever seen this happen was when a magical child was killed before being able to come to Hogwarts--the line means that the person has ceased to exist."

Professor McGonagall sat down abruptly, in a chair that just happened to be next to her. "Harry Potter, dead? Oh, Albus. What is to be done?"

Albus just sat and looked with sad eyes at the Deputy Headmistress. "I don't know what we _can_ do, Minerva. If Harry Potter is indeed dead, then we are in for a rather bad time of it, I think. Although the Longbottom boy--yes, he might be the one. . ."

Minerva tried to bring Albus back onto track. "But you said your instruments indicated he was happy! Wouldn't they have shown--"

"Yes, of course!" Professor Dumbledore looked as if there might still be hope left in the world. He jumped to his feet with surprising agility for such an old man, and rushed to the table where all his spindly-legged, spiderlike silver instruments were whirring away. He prodded one that was spinning lazily, and it puffed out a small cloud of light yellow smoke. "Yes--it indicates that Harry is in perfect health. And this one, it says he's happy. But then, why. . .?"

"Where is he, Albus? And why isn't he coming here to school?" Minerva was just about in tears over the missing child, although one couldn't tell by looking at her.

Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall's questions were not to find answers anytime soon.

oooooooooo

_**Boy-Who-Lived Now Boy-Who's-Lost!!**_

_Little Whinging, Surrey - The Daily Prophet reports that according to a statement released by the Ministry of Magic today, Harry Potter, the famed Boy-Who-Lived, has disappeared from English Wizarding Society. While rumors have abounded throughout the years as to the whereabouts of our Savior, in reality, Ministry officials state, he was to have been living in a modest little home in Little Whinging, with his maternal Aunt, Petunia Dursley, her husband Vernon, who works for a brill company, and their son Dudley. However, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore, and the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, discovered that, while Mr. Potter did presumably turn eleven this year, not only did young Mr. Potter never acknowledge his enrollment in Hogwarts, he was never even sent a letter. After detailed investigation of the matter, it was found that his name had been crossed out of the Register of Magical Children for England, which tracks all magical children born and/or residing in the country._

_"It's as if he just disappeared," stated one source, close to the Headmaster, who spoke only on conditions of anonymity. "This would only happen if the child had died, or been taken somewhere far away." When questioned about these possibilities, Headmaster Dumbledore would only say, "We are investigating the situation, and I'm sure everything will work out for the best." Professor McGonagall refused comment, leaving this reporter to speculate. Was Harry Potter the victim of foul play? Has he been taken somewhere else to vanquish other Dark Wizards? Are unscrupulous people trying to gain control of the Potter Heritage? Further updates as events warrant._

oooooooooo

_**Boy-Who-Lived Now Boy-Who-Finds-Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?**_

_Diagon Alley, London - The Quibbler is very happy to announce that we might finally be able to prove to the many skeptics in the world the existence of the legendary Crumple-Horned Snorkack. It has come to our attention that directly after defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the age of 15 months, Harry Potter was taken away to be trained in the art of wildlife photography. Since then he has been spotted in Patagonia, Nome, Madrid, and Boise, presumably while on training expeditions. What can he be searching for now? It is, of course, widely known that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is one of the last of the beasts on Ignoramus Fildernick's list of _Beasts We Need to Find_, and what else could the Boy-Who-Lived be doing other than aiding in this vital search?_

_Please join this reporter in wishing Harry Potter luck in his fabulous quest for rare beasts. I know that I, personally, will be sending him an owl to give him my support, and I urge all of you out there to do the same. Harry Potter needs our help now more than ever!_

oooooooooo

The morning of September first arrived much too quickly for the Weasley parents, and much too slowly for the two youngest Weasley children. Indeed, the summer seemed to have dragged on quite interminably for Ginny, and Ron too. But finally the fated day had arrived.

"Did you get your extra underwear?" Molly asked her daughter, who promptly turned red and ducked her head.

"Yes, Mum, and all my socks, although I still think I might have to borrow some of Ron's. . ."

"No you don't!" came the strident voice of the young man so named. "You're not going to be able to steal them while we're at school! Fred told me that the stairs to the dormitories wouldn't let anyone else up! So you'll have to steal socks from the other girls!" Ron was rather pleased about this--he constantly had a shortage of socks and, while he actually preferred to go barefoot around the house and having no socks gave him a convenient excuse, it was the principle of the thing, right? You couldn't just sit by while your baby sister took your clothes, right? Ronald Bilius Weasley was in for quite a shock in this regard. First, the Twins failed to point out that it was only the boys that couldn't climb the girls' staircase. And second, there would come a time when he wouldn't mind very much whether Ginny stole his clothes, as letting his little sister wear his clothes would be quite a nice way to attract attention from the other girls in their year, and sometime in the future, that might be desirable.

Molly quieted the argument with the rapidity of long practice, and, in the same breath, called them all down to breakfast. She just about had to force-feed her nervous daughter, _did_ have to restrain her youngest son from eating too fast and choking, and finally managed to get them all through the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, from which they traveled to Kings Cross Station to send all five of the students away for the year.

oooooooooo

Kings Cross Station was rather crowded, more so than Molly liked, and she started to mumble under her breath about how packed it was, full of Muggles. Thankfully, no-one seemed to notice her, intent as they were on their own lives and destinations. As they neared the wall between platforms 9 and 10, Ginny grew increasingly more subdued. Molly finally noticed the look of sadness on her daughter's face, and after they had made their way through the magical barrier, she assigned Fred and George to put Ginny's trunk on the train, then pulled the young girl aside.

"Ginny-dear, what's the matter? I thought you were excited about starting Hogwarts this year? You're not changing your mind are you?"

Ginny twisted one foot and grimaced. "No, Mum. It's just that I had really wanted to meet Harry Potter this year, and now he's all missing and everything. I was hoping we'd be able to sit together on the train and become friends."

Molly sighed. Ginny had taken it rather hard when the Daily Prophet had reported that the Boy-Who-Lived was missing. She had spent more than a few days moping around the house, worrying about the young boy, until finally she had managed to drag herself out of it. Molly had caught her talking to her dolls, and from what she had overheard, Ginny had made up a story about how Harry Potter had been taken away by a magical king and queen of a far-away country (Molly thought she heard "Paris" mentioned, but couldn't be sure), and would be attending school there and learning how to defeat dragons and rescue unicorns and darn socks. But it looked like the old worries had surfaced again, and she didn't really know how to deal with it, given the fact that the train was due to leave in seven minutes. Thinking fast, she decided on something.

"Ginny-love, I have an idea."

Ginny brightened up and looked at her mum.

"You know the school has a whole bunch of owls, right?" Ginny nodded. "Well, you could try writing him letters. If he really is somewhere else, then maybe the school owls will be able to find him. If they can, then you can get to know him through letters, and maybe, when you're older, you can meet him somewhere. What do you think of that?"

Ginny grinned. This was better than she'd ever hoped. "Oh, Mum! That's a great idea!" She frowned a bit. "Does it cost any money to use the school owls?"

Molly smiled back. "No, my dear, they like to fly, so they're willing to carry letters for all the students for free. Now, are you ready to go? It's almost time for the train to leave."

Ginny nodded eagerly. "Yes, Mum, I think I'll be okay now." She kissed her mum on the cheek and ran off toward where a glimpse of red hair indicated the presence of at least one Weasley.

Molly sighed, knowing that, as excited as she was for her children, her house was going to seem abnormally empty for quite some time. In fact, she'd probably only be used to it in time for the children to come home for Christmas holidays, then she'd have to miss them all over again. But, it was all part of growing up, and she wouldn't stop that for anything.

Ginny, for her part, found the open door where she had seen Ron's hair, and climbed on-board. Wondering where the Twins had placed her trunk, and hoping that they hadn't had time to prank it, she started walking down the aisle. Eventually she heard George's voice exclaiming over something that apparently one of his friends was showing him, and let herself into his compartment.

"Hey, Firefly, I wondered if you were gonna catch the train!"

"Yeah," Ginny responded, "Mum just wanted to talk to me about something. Um, do you have my trunk?" she asked, looking around the compartment as if hoping to see the indicated article floating in mid-air or something.

"Nah, we left it in the next car up, last compartment. There was some bushy-haired girl there, first-year by the looks of it, and we thought you might like to have someone to talk to," George answered.

Feeling slightly nervous, she said, "Um, do you think I could come visit you some time during the trip?"

The twins exchanged a glance, and Fred answered. "Of course you can, and if you really detest the girl, we can help you find somewhere else to sit, if you'd like. You could even come sit with us if there's no-where else suitable, okay?"

Ginny smiled broadly. "Thanks, Gred! That'd be great. I hope I won't need to, but if she's too boring, I'll be back. Do you. . . do you know where Ron is?"

George laughed. "Nah, we asked him if he wanted help, and he just told us to bugger off 'cause he didn't need us. Makes me rather happy we were able to get to his trunk earlier today."

Ginny laughed too. "Good! I hope I get to find out what happens. Okay, well, I'm going to go find out about this other girl then. Thanks!" And with a wave, she walked forward to find out whether she had a potential friend, or an excuse to go for a wander.

oooooooooo

Hermione Granger was excited. Well, excited _and_ scared. It was marvelous to have an explanation as to the weird things that kept happening around her, and exciting to meet that wonderful Professor McGonagall, and thrilling to be able to go to a school to study _magic_ of all things. But it was rather scary going off to a school where she didn't know anybody (although, to be honest, that wasn't as great a loss as it could be, since she really didn't have any friends to miss, after all), and where her parents couldn't just pop up to see her. But, Hermione had never backed down from a challenge in her life--well, at least if it involved learning things. Sneaking into the library during lunchtime was certainly easy, but she could never really see the point in eating slugs, or kissing some boy, or playing some stupid game with a ball, all things that she'd been challenged to do in her short life.

The door opened and she looked up from her second reading of _Hogwarts, a History_ to see who it was. At first she could only take in the red hair. Red hair had always fascinated her, so different from her own brunette. But the thing that really stood out was the fact that the hair was long, down to the person's waist, and ran in smooth, soft waves.

"I wish I had your hair!"

The newcomer was slightly taken aback--no-one had ever really shown any sort of reaction to her hair other than the typical "Oh, you must be a Weasley" dismissal. "Really? It tends to get in the way too much, but I like it long."

Hermione, eternally grateful that this newcomer was a girl--how horrid it would have been to confess to loving some _boy_'s hair!--responded immediately, "Oh, um, it's not how long it is, although that is rather nice. But look at mine! I can never get it to do anything! It's always bushy and poking out all over the place, and I know, I just _know_ that it is boring--no-one ever notices it! But yours is so smooth, and soft, and I bet no-one ever overlooks you!"

The girl, who was still standing in the doorway, came in farther and let the door slide shut. "Oh, tosh! You have very pretty hair--I've often wondered what it would be like to be able to blend into a crowd better. Sometimes I could really use that ability. And let me tell you, my whole family has red hair, and they ignore me all the time. Well, not Mum and Dad, and the Twins are okay, but Ron's turning into rather a prat, and Percy's got his nose stuck in his books all the time. And I never see Bill and Charlie anymore. Red hair certainly doesn't seem to guard against all that."

Hermione was awestruck. Being an only child, she'd never really had to compete for attention before, and this girl had casually mentioned five, or was it six? siblings. "How many children do your parents have?"

The new girl chose to sit down on the opposing seat, after sending an inquiring glance to Hermione and being reassured that it was open. "There're seven of us kids. Although, with Charlie and Bill gone off to Romania and Egypt there's only five at home. But then, the Twins make so much noise that they make up for it. So, what's your name?"

Hermione blushed. How unlike her to forget her manners so easily. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I just found out I was magical. I'm very pleased to meet you. . ."

"I'm Ginny Weasley."

With that, the two shook hands, and fell into the best conversation that Hermione could remember having with a child her own age since. . . since. . . well, ever.

oooooooooo

Ginny was supremely happy. She hadn't known what to expect from the trip to Hogwarts, aside from finally being able to ride that big scarlet and black steam engine that she'd seen so often over the years. But finding someone like Hermione to be her first Hogwarts' friend was a complete surprise. They seemed to fit into each other's idea of a best friend, and that was rather amazing. After all, they were rather different, even aside from the obvious ones such as temperament (studious and obedient versus playful and mischievous) and background (Pureblood and totally magical versus Muggleborn and Muggle-raised). But their differences seemed to complement each other rather than compete with each other.

Their happy conversation was interrupted by a knock on the compartment door. They looked up to see a rather sad, round-faced boy staring at them in what looked like forlorn resignation. Hermione, being closer to the door, opened it, and asked the boy what was wrong.

"Oh, um, sorry, but I seem to have misplaced my toad, Trevor. You probably haven't seen him, have you?" Having said his piece, the boy turned as if to go.

Ginny giggled. "Hold on, don't run off, we haven't even answered you yet."

The boy turned back around with a look of surprise. "You mean you've seen him?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you can't come in."

"But what about my toad? I don't want him to get lost, or squished, or something. . ."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. Magical pets are rather long-lasting. I mean, my brother Ron's got a rat that's just ancient--probably should have died a long time ago, but he's still going strong. Um, your toad _is_ magical, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I mean, he's not, like a transfigured human or anything, but he can hop really high and is pretty smart. My Uncle Algie bought him for me after he dropped me out the upper-story window--"

Hermione gasped. "He what?" she cried in alarm.

"Was he testing you for magic?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I didn't show very much at all, but I bounced down the street, and everyone was really happy. Uncle Algie came home from work the next day and brought me my toad."

"But, didn't your Mum get mad at your uncle?" Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, what if you'd been hurt, or killed, or something?"

The boy looked at his shoes and mumbled, "I live with my grandmum. Mum and Dad are in St. Mungo's Long-Term Spell Damage Ward."

Ginny immediately stood and almost gave him a hug. But at the last second, she just patted the boy on his back. "I'm sorry. That must be hard, not having them around. Do you want to sit down?"

The boy nodded after a moment and took a seat on the the bench where Hermione was.

The silence grew slightly awkward until Hermione huffed and said, "Well, my name is Hermione Granger. I'm a Muggle-born, and. . ." It looked like she was thinking really hard about something. She must have decided, for she continued, ". . . and I am really scared about going off to school."

Ginny gaped at Hermione, until the latter turned toward the red-head and winked. Ginny realized then what Hermione was up to.

"And I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm the youngest of seven, and my brother Ron is starting Hogwarts today too. I'm a little bit nervous about having to live up to the Weasley family reputation."

The boy had raised his head slowly as the girls were introducing themselves. "Hi, um, Ginny, and Hermione. I'm Neville Longbottom. I'm a Pureblood, and of course I've heard of the Weasleys. I'm just happy to be able to go. Maybe I can make my grand-mum happy for once, if I'm any good."

Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances, and, in the inimitable way that girls have, agreed that they would help Neville in any way they could.

"So, um, Trevor, was it?" Ginny asked.

The boy shook his head in confusion. "No, I'm Neville."

Hermione snickered and Ginny shook her head. "No, I meant your toad." Neville nodded, and she continued. "Anyway, he should be fine. If we don't find him by the time we get there, I'm sure we can ask one of the teachers or someone about him. Someone will know a spell or something to find him."

This seemed to spark Hermione's memory. "I remember reading a spell that can bring things to you! It was in _Simple Spells for Sorting and Stacking_, I think. Let me check." She got up to get her trunk, and just about pulled it down on Ginny's head, but Neville leapt up at the last minute and caught it, although it just about over-balanced him too.

The trunk safely on the floor, Hermione opened it and quickly flipped through the myriads of books stored therein. Pulling out a thin volume, she hurriedly leafed through it. "Here it is! Let's see, _Accio_. Oh, but, can we do magic on the train, do you think? Without getting in trouble, I mean."

Ginny frowned. "I think so. I mean, it's not like we're going to be breaking the Statute of Secrecy, right? And besides, we haven't _really_ started at Hogwarts yet, so they can't say anything about it. Go ahead and try."

Hermione bit her lip and thought. "Um, maybe Neville should do it. I mean, you grew up around magic, right?"

Neville tried to interrupt, no doubt to point out that until recently he'd been thought a Squib anyway, but Hermione would hear none of it.

"And besides, it's your toad, so you'll probably have more of a magical connection to it, right?" Obviously assuming that Neville's inability to speak was because he couldn't come up with any objections, rather than the much-more-likely case of him being too flustered to get a word out, she shoved the book in his face and pointed out the wand movements. "See? It's just a wide sweep with a left-facing J-hook. Easy!"

Neville looked in horror at Ginny, who was sitting across the compartment trying to stifle a giggle. Seeing that she wasn't going to be any help, he looked back at Hermione, who was smiling at him in anticipation. "Um, uh, okay. Let me. . . let me get my wand." He pulled it out of his back pocket, then took another look at the book. "So, I just do this and say the words, and he should come, right?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically and backed away. Neville nodded much less enthusiastically and swished his wand slightly. Taking a deep breath, he said, in a rather trembling voice, "Azeeo Trevor."

Nothing happened. Well, nothing _expected_ happened. And nothing really _visible_ happened, although Trevor felt a slight shudder go through him, and found himself craving a dragonfly for dinner, which usually he didn't approve of, because they just didn't go down very well.

Hermione frowned. "I'm not sure you did the wand movements right. Let me see the book again, please?"

Neville gladly handed the volume back to her, and went to put his wand away.

"Neville, come here--I think you just need to do a wider J-shape at the end. Let me help." She stood behind him and placed her hand on his to help guide the wand motion. Taking the wand through the movements a couple of times for practice, she then helped him with the pronunciation, as that had been somewhat lacking also. Finally, she felt they were ready.

Taking a deep breath, and trying to ignore the feeling of Hermione's hand on his, Neville said, very clearly, "_Accio Trevor!_" and waved his wand in an exact copy of the book's motion.

Silence reigned. Nothing came shooting through the door. Trevor stayed where he was, although he thought, desultorily, _I wonder where Neville went_. . .

Hermione just about cried. "Why didn't it work? We did everything perfectly!"

Neville didn't know what to do, although past experience had taught him that any magical failures in his vicinity were usually his fault. "It's my fault. I don't have enough magic to do something like that. And after all, isn't it like a fifth-year spell or something?"

Ginny didn't like hearing him denigrate himself and spoke up. "Neville, don't talk about yourself like that! It's probably something else. I mean, there's a lot that goes into making a spell work, right? Hermione, what are the pieces that make up a correct spell?"

The other girl was grateful to have something to focus on other than her (in her own mind) spectacular failure. "Well, let's see. First is intent. Next is correct wand-motion. Pronunciation is important, as is magical power. And, of course, the wand has to be a good match for a really good result. But, I'm sure we had all of that! Neville, you have enough power to _Accio_ a toad--it doesn't have that much magical inertia to overcome. And your wand is fine, right?"

Silence.

"Neville, don't you have a good wand?"

"Well, it _is_ a good wand--it was my dad's, and he was a great Auror. So it can't be the wand, can it?"

Ginny answered, "Well, we've always been told that the wand chooses the wizard. I went and got a new wand last month 'cause I didn't want to have problems doing spells. My brother Ron is using his great-uncle Ernest's wand, and I'm sure I can do spells better than he can. Hermione's got her own wand, right?"

The bushy-haired girl nodded in answer.

"Okay, then," Ginny continued. "Maybe Hermione should try _Accio_ing Trevor with her own wand. What do you think, Hermione?"

Hermione agreed, then scanned through the book's description again, even though she didn't really need to. Grasping her wand firmly, she performed the motions while saying, "_Accio Trevor!"_

Everyone stopped and listened. The heard a couple of faint screams, and then a moist thud as a small, presumably amphibious, figure impacted the closed door.

"Trevor!" Neville shouted and opened the door. Sure enough, lying there in a daze was the missing toad. "I'm so sorry, Trevor, we forgot to open the door. Are you okay?" The toad shook his head slightly, gave a rather disgusted look at his owner, and hopped down to hide under a seat and, presumably, nurse his injuries.

Hermione was beaming. "It worked," she was telling herself. "A fifth-year spell! And we got it to work! Magic is so cool!"

As she was saying this to herself, Neville shyly came over and made as if to put his hand on her shoulder, but stopped, blushing slightly. He settled for patting her arm awkwardly. Hermione smiled brilliantly at him and sat down again.

"Neville, go ahead and have a seat," Ginny prompted.

Neville looked confused for a bit, as if unsure why someone would want him around, but nodded his head and sat back down, slightly closer to Hermione.

Hermione looked over at Ginny, then down at the floor. Then she shook her head, as if confirming something, and looked at her new friend again. "Um, Ginny. You mentioned that Ron was using _his_ uncle Ernest's wand. Isn't he your uncle too?"

Ginny grimaced a bit. She'd only known Hermione for a little while, and hadn't quite become used to someone being so observant. "Well, yeah, he is, or rather, was, 'cause he's dead. But I was adopted when I was a baby. So, he kind of isn't."

"You're adopted? So those other redheads on the train aren't your brothers? I thought they were--I mean, they look quite a lot like you."

"Yes, they're my brothers. I have six of them. Do you know anything about magical adoptions?" Hermione shook her head. "Well, with a magical adoption, if you do it right, then the baby actually becomes part of the family, through blood and everything. So, I got this bright red hair and freckles, and I think I probably got my Mum's temper too."

"You haven't always been a redhead? Do you know what color your hair used to be?" Neville asked, surprising them.

Ginny turned to the boy. "Yeah. Mum and Dad took pictures of me before the adoption, and my hair was this beautiful silvery-blond, and my skin was just pure white. . ." She drifted off, and only came to herself when Hermione spoke up.

"You sound sad. Don't you like your family?"

"Oh, yeah, I do. I love them very much, and I don't really remember anything else do I? It's just, I've always wondered what my other parents were like, and why they had to give me up. What would have happened if I'd grown up with them? Would I have a sister? Where would I live? You know, things I'll probably never know. And I can't help but think that I would have been very pretty with that hair. Maybe the boys would like it better too." She grinned and turned to Neville. "What about you, Neville? Do you think I'd be pretty with silvery-blond hair?"

Neville blushed spectacularly and looked down. Taking a big breath, he faced Ginny again and said, "I think you're very pretty already, Ginny." He quickly looked down, and didn't see the grateful smile on Ginny's face, or the slightly disgruntled look on Hermione's. Both looks disappeared, though, when he looked back up at Hermione. "I think you're _both_ very pretty."

Hermione leaned over and put her hand on his arm. "Thanks, Neville, for saying so, even though I'm not sure I believe you." She smiled at him to take away the slight bitterness in her words. Ginny smiled at the pair, and echoed her thanks to the shy boy.

Hermione then turned to Ginny. "Well, I certainly don't know about your birth family, although it would be fun to try to track down who they might have been. But I've never had a sister either, and I'd sure like one. Would you be my sister?"

Ginny gaped, then flung herself across the compartment and threw her arms around the other girl. "Yes, yes, I would! But only if you'll be mine."

Neville felt a little awkward sitting there while the two girls hugged, but before he could persuade himself to leave, a kind lady knocked on their door. "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ginny sat back down and pulled out a squashed bag from her pocket. "No thanks, I've brought my lunch."

Hermione jumped up, excited to see what was available, but after perusing the contents of the cart, sat back down, as she didn't have extra money, especially for sweets. Neville, on the other hand, took a chance. "Yes, please. Could we please have three pumpkin pasties, half a dozen chocolate frogs, some licorice wands, and five cauldron cakes?"

After the trolley lady left, Neville put all the food on the bench between himself and Hermione, and said, "Well, I can't eat it all myself, take what you'd like."

Hermione wasn't too sure about accepting food from someone she'd just met, but the look on his face convinced her that he'd probably never recover his self-esteem if she refused. Ginny decided the same thing, and the three friends spent the next hour or so enjoying the food, which was new to Hermione, and reading the chocolate frog cards they discovered. Ginny and Hermione both got out their lunches, and shared them too, although the contents weren't eaten with quite as much enthusiasm.

Some time later, the talk turned to Hogwarts itself. In this, Ginny was the undisputed leader, although only in things that were important. In unimportant trivia, such as how long the school had been around, and how it was built, and how many ghosts were there, Hermione could be counted upon for answers, drawn, of course, from _Hogwarts, a History_.

"What house do you think you'll be Sorted into?" Hermione asked the others at one point.

Neville answered first. "I guess Gryffindor. My parents were in there, and Gran keeps comparing me to my dad." He didn't look very happy at this.

Hermione patted him on the arm again as Ginny took her turn. "Well, I'm not sure. My whole family has been in Gryffindor, but my mum keeps telling me that it really doesn't matter what House you're put in, as long as you do your best. Gryffindor sounds fine, but there I'd still be with Percy and Fred and George. And possibly Ron, too. Maybe it'd be better if I were somewhere else. I _am _sure, though, that it wouldn't be very good for me to be in Slytherin. They tend to be more uptight about blood purity, and since we Weasleys are widely known as Muggle-lovers, we probably wouldn't get along well."

Neville listened to all this with fascination, and a tiny seed of an idea sprang up in him.

"Of course, I'd really like it if my sister were in the same House as me. . ." Ginny finished, giving a quick smile to Hermione.

Hermione smiled back, then looked at Neville. "I think I agree with Ginny, Neville. It doesn't really matter what House you go to, as long as you work hard. _Hogwarts, a History_ mentions a whole bunch of different people who went into different Houses and became famous. I mean, even Slytherin has a ton of famous people coming from it. If you get Sorted somewhere besides Gryffindor, maybe that'll be the best place for you to become the person you really want to be." She smiled at Neville, then looked back at Ginny. "Well, after looking over all the Houses, I think I'd probably be okay in any of them other than Slytherin--since I'm a Muggle-born. But I'm really interested in Ravenclaw, so maybe I'll get to go there. Do you know what we have to do to get Sorted?"

Ginny thought a bit, then shook her head. "No, no-one has ever mentioned what the process is. I can't imagine it'll be too hard. After all, we haven't had any time to practice, or study or anything. And I don't think anyone's ever been killed while being Sorted, so stop worrying, Neville!"

Neville blushed, then laughed out loud. For him, this had been one of the happiest times of his life. Here were two amazing, and very pretty, girls who seemed to want to be his friends. And they had just about convinced him to perhaps not let his Gran's opinions have so much power in his life.

Hermione was ecstatic. She'd gained a sister, with Ginny, and a new friend in Neville. She promised herself that, no matter what, she'd not let her studies drive her away from her friends, as she had all her previous years in school. They obviously didn't mind her bushy hair, or her slightly-too-large teeth, so she would do her best to be a good friend to them too.

Ginny had enjoyed the train ride more than she would have believed. In fact, she had completely forgotten about going to visit any of her brothers. Of course, she mused, they seemed to have forgotten all about her too. The one down side of the trip was the still-missing Harry Potter. She hadn't _really_ expected him to show up out of thin air on the train, since the Daily Prophet had reported that no-one could find him, but she couldn't help the small flame of hope that lived in her heart that someday, somehow, they'd be able to meet, and she could be his friend.

oooooooooo

The train finally began slowing down, and they put their robes on. After it had stopped, and they had been directed to leave the rest of their belongings in the train to be taken to the castle separately, they joined the mass of students pushing out the doors. Upon leaving the train itself, they heard a great booming voice.

"Firs' years, over 'ere! All you firs' years, come over 'ere!" A veritable giant of a man was swinging a lantern and calling, so they pushed their way, as best they could, towards him. Huddled around him in the growing darkness were the other new students. Ginny smiled and waved at Ron, but he seemed to be in the middle of a conversation, and just nodded back.

Eventually they were shepherded down to a flotilla of small boats. "No more'n four to a boat, now, everyone in!" called the big man, and when all were seated, the boats started to move magically across the lake. They rounded a bank, and a gasp went up from the students as they got their first view of Hogwarts castle. The many turrets, towers, and ramparts were silhouetted against the night sky, and the windows were ablaze with candlelight, providing a welcoming feeling in the air. Ginny had heard all sorts of stories about the wonderful castle, but nothing had prepared her for such a beautiful building. As she looked at it, she felt, deep down inside, something shift, as if her spirit felt more peaceful being there. She decided that she would try her hardest to enjoy her time there, to get to know the castle inside and out, and to become the best person she could be.

The boat ride was all too short for the three friends, but they _had_ begun to shiver, so it was probably for the best. The boats docked inside an underground cave, and the giant led them all up a long flight of stairs to an old wooden door, upon which he knocked three times, almost as if it were some ritual.

The door opened, and all the first years craned their necks to try to see who had opened it. Some unfortunate boy in the front row, Ginny suspected it to be Ron, as it sounded quite a lot like him, whispered, "It's a goblin!"

Indeed, the person standing there was every bit as short as the goblins that ran Gringotts, but aside from the lack of height, he looked to be more human than goblin. Her thoughts were interrupted when the tall man said, "The firs' years, Professor Flitwick."

"Thank you, Hagrid," the professor squeaked, and motioned them to follow him into the castle proper. The crowd of eleven-year-olds followed into an antechamber, from where they could hear a muted rumbling, presumably coming from the rest of the students who had arrived at the castle in enchanted carriages.

The tiny professor cleared his throat and began to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts! You are here to begin a course of study in Magic that will take most of you seven years. During that time, Hogwarts will be home to you, and hopefully you will come to love it as most do. We will wait here for a short while until it is time for the Sorting Ceremony. Some of you might want to take the time to make yourselves more presentable."

Ginny saw Ron hastily straighten his tie and rub futilely at a patch of dirt on his nose.

"Your Houses will serve as your family here. You will spend time in your House Common Room, attend classes with others of your House, and find many close friends in that House. But, please do not let your House become your only source of fun. There are many enjoyable activities to be found outside of the House structure, and many good friends to be found in other Houses. I will be back soon to lead you in."

And with that, the diminutive professor left through another door. The group of to-be-Sorted students talked softly amongst themselves, until they were interrupted by a group of ghosts entering through one wall. The ghosts didn't seem to notice the students, being intent on their own discussion, and Ginny couldn't help but be somewhat glad that she didn't have yet another new thing to deal with right then.

Professor Flitwick returned and led them out into a huge hall. This hall had four long tables, at which were seated the rest of the students. Obviously these were segregated by House, as Ginny could see small badges on the uniforms, indicating, she thought, which House each student belonged to. At the far end of the room, on a raised dais was what had to be the teachers' table, as the ones seated there were all dressed as the tiny Professor Flitwick had been. Just then she heard Hermione whisper, "It's enchanted to look like the sky; I read it in _Hogwarts, a History_." Ginny looked up and gasped. There didn't seem to be any ceiling above them, although she could just barely pick out the buttresses and arches that supported the invisible ceiling and walls. Indeed, the enchantments on that ceiling were quite possibly the most impressive magic Ginny had ever been witness to.

Her inspection was cut short as a stern-looking lady stepped up to the lectern and cleared her throat. "Greetings, Hogwarts students and faculty, to another year at Hogwarts. I am Headmistress McGonagall, and this is Deputy Headmaster Flitwick. I am glad to see you all here with us this evening, and am looking forward to a most educational year. As you may have guessed, there have been some changes since last year. Headmaster Dumbledore has stepped down and taken a role as a guest lecturer. This will allow him more time to pursue some of his other ventures, and we wish him well in that. His leaving has necessitated the appointment of a new professor for Transfiguration, so I hope you will all give a warm welcome to Professor Rawlings."

Professor Rawlings, a short, round man of indeterminate age, stood and waved to the student body, who politely applauded him.

"Professor Rawlings will also be taking over the position of Head of Gryffindor House.

"Now, as I am sure we are all interested in getting to the food, we will move to the Sorting. Professor Flitwick?"

Professor Flitwick stepped to the front of the Teachers' table and placed a small, three-legged stool on the floor. Upon the stool was an old, threadbare, patched hat. The older students all stared at the hat with bated breath, so Ginny and the rest of the new students watched too.

All of a sudden, a rip in the hat opened up, and the hat began to sing. Ginny watched, transfixed, as the hat explained about the four Houses and how they'd each be Sorted into one of them. When the song was over, she applauded enthusiastically with the rest of the students, and watched as Professor Flitwick started calling each of the students up to sit on the stool and have the hat call out the House for each child. She noticed, as the group grew smaller and smaller, that the Hat occasionally yelled out the House name as soon as it touched the head of the student, whereas for others it seemed to take awhile to make a decision.

Hermione was the first one of the students called up who held any interest for Ginny. She watched as the bushy-haired girl sat and had the Hat placed onto her head. It didn't take very long for the Hat to decide and Ginny applauded her new friend as the hat called out "Ravenclaw!"

Other students took their turns too, and eventually Neville was called up. Ginny wasn't sure which house would be best for him. It seemed that the Hat wasn't exactly sure either, as Neville's was one of the longest Sortings so far. From what she could see of his face, he was arguing with the Hat about where to be placed. Finally, though, the rip in the brim opened up and the Hat yelled out, "Hufflepuff!" Ginny was happy for him--he seemed to need some good friends, and surely in Hufflepuff he'd be able to find them.

She shuffled her feet and her stomach rumbled as Thomas, Dean was sorted into Gryffindor, and, sooner than she'd expected, it was her turn. "Weasley, Ginevra!" called out Professor Flitwick, and she jumped a little, then walked forward, hoping that her nervousness wasn't as obvious to everyone else as it was to herself. She took her seat, felt the hat being placed on her head, and immediately heard a small voice inside her head.

"Well, hello there! It has been quite awhile since I've Sorted one of you. What brings you to Hogwarts, Miss Weasley?"

"Um, I turned eleven, sir."

"No need to call me 'sir', Miss Weasley, I'm just a Hat, after all."

"Well, then, do you have a name? I don't want to just call you 'Hat'."

"I've always been very partial to the name Harrison, but I'll answer to whatever you wish, young miss."

"Okay, Harrison. Um, what did you mean about not having Sorted one of me?"

The Hat was quiet for a bit. "Ah, I see. You don't really know who you are, do you? I see sadness at having lost your birth parents, and a strong desire to find out your ancestry. Should I tell you? No, that wouldn't be quite the thing to do, would it? However, I shall give you some advice. Trust Professor Flitwick--he will be able to help you control your fire casting, and the other issues that you will run into. He will guard your secrets well, and will come to be quite a true friend to you as well as a trusted advisor."

"Ehm, okay. I'll try. But, do you think I'll be able to find my first parents?"

"Oh yes, my dear, it's all here in your mind. You're much more intelligent than you let on, you know, and if you allow that intelligence out, you should be able to solve that, as well as a lot of other mysteries. And don't think that I don't see that little hope to be in a House other than Gryffindor. It's been quite a long while since a Weasley has been in any of the other Houses, but with your need for guidance from Flitwick, and your friend being there already, I think you'll do perfectly in--" and here the Hat raised its voice for the whole hall to hear, "Ravenclaw!"

oooooooooo

A/N: Thanks, as always, to my betas, rosiekatriona, and sassyfrass, who are as beautiful as they are wise.

Special glitter-covered Internet baked-good-of-your-choice to anyone who picks out the reference to "Into the Woods".

Now, dear reader, I have a question. This is one of the longer chapters, and it occurred to me as I was writing it, that there might be a better way to do this. So, please chime in with your preference, would you rather have shorter chapters (hopefully) more frequently? Or longer chapters less frequently?


	8. Chapter 8, Wand Shopping

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 8, **Wand Shopping**  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored.

oooooooooo

La Rue de Magique was rather crowded today. Granted, it usually was, but the third Saturday in July was traditionally the day that the stores put out the merchandise for the upcoming school year. This meant, of course, that all the new Beauxbatons first years clamored to go do their school shopping. Giselle didn't know why this was such a big deal--it's not like the bookstore was going to run out of books, nor the wand-maker run out of wands. But it had always been so, and would always be so.

"Mama, can I get an owl?" Harry asked, as they wandered the smoothly-paved walkway that took them past the many different stores fronting the street.

"_May_ I get an owl, Harry."

"Of course, Mama, then I can get one too, right?"

Giselle tried hard, but couldn't quite repress the snort of humor that escaped her. She turned to her eleven-year old boy and couldn't quite find it in her to reprimand him. "I don't know, Harry, you may certainly _look_ at the owls, but that doesn't mean we'll get one. Okay?"

The currently blond-haired boy smiled at her, then turned and jumped for four or five steps, before returning to a walk.

"Fleur, dear, do you have your list with you?"

The older girl turned and nodded exaggeratedly at her mother. "Yes, Mum, I checked last time you asked me, and the time before that, too."

"Well, you can't blame me for being worried. I mean, you remember last year--"

"Mum! I _told_ you! I didn't mean to forget it. And it's not like you couldn't just pop over and get it now!" She turned away from her mother and continued on, under her breath, "Honestly! Make one little mistake and she never lets you forget it. I mean, _really_, I'm fourteen already. . ."

Giselle smiled at her daughter, grateful that, although the teenage hormones were hitting Fleur hard, she wasn't really turning into a sullen, brooding vampire-wannabe.

"Harry, don't get too far away, dear. Remember what happened at the zoo?"

Harry frowned at his mother in disgust and muttered under his breath, "I just wanted to see the penguins. Honestly!"

Giselle smirked a bit at how similar her two oldest were, and took a moment to wonder how Madeline would have acted. The memory of her lost daughter still had the power to make her sad, but it was a familiar sorrow, almost an old friend. She shook her head slightly, putting those memories away again, and picked up her pace. "Come along, children, let's not spend all day at this."

oooooooooo

Harry was excited to be shopping for his school supplies. Well, it was more correct to say that he was excited at the prospect of getting a wand. Books were interesting, but they were _schoolbooks_, and so relegated to the back of his mind. The idea of getting an owl was shiny and new, but his mum hadn't really promised that he could have one, so it was viewed as only speculative. But a wand--now that was interesting!

The wandmaker's shop, _Batons Magiques de LaRousse_, was rather boring to look at from the outside. The shop itself had just a narrow front, barely enough space for a door, and the door itself looked rather old and weather-beaten. But once the family stepped inside, wonder overtook the Delacours. Fleur pretended to not be very impressed, after all, _she_ had seen it before. But Harry had no such compunctions. The shop was much bigger on the inside than it had looked, and everywhere he cast his eyes were wands. Wands hung from hooks on the walls, and dangled on ribbons from the ceiling. There was a small corner where wands floated lazily up and down in a never-ending dance, without any visible means of support. He turned around and saw that, where the door had been, was a large pegboard, covered with pictures of (Harry assumed) prominent wizards with their wands proudly displayed. The pegboard itself had a scrolling marquee across the top that read, "LaRousse Wands, Seen in All the Best Places".

Harry was rather overwhelmed. So much magic on display was making him dizzy. He reached for his mother's hand and held it tightly as he turned back around. And promptly jumped backwards. Standing in front of him was a tall, cadaverous man, wearing a monocle and beaming in a somewhat greasy fashion.

"Welcome, welcome to LaRousse Wands! I am so happy to have you here in my store! Let me guess, first year at Beauxbatons, non?" And he peered down at Harry as if he were a large preying mantis and Harry a small, highly edible and delicious species of beetle.

Harry nervously nodded his head.

"Wonderful! Simply fantastic! Please step over here into the Wanderrific 2000. It will measure your magical core and tell me exactly what kind of wand to give you. It's relatively new, and I have been oh so pleased with it. The guesswork of wand-matching will be a thing of the past!"

As the thin man talked, he had laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and started marching him towards a different corner of the store, where stood a clear tube, made out of what looked like glass, over which flowed thousands of small bulbs in a myriad of colors. LaRousse pushed Harry inside a door, then shut it and brought out his own wand. Making a series of short, sharp jabs and flicks, he intoned something under his breath, which sounded suspiciously like, _por favor, que marche bien y no se rompa!_ The bulbous things on the outside sped up their meanderings. Harry tried to watch them, to see if there was some sort of discernible pattern, but they made him queasy, so he just closed his eyes and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, he opened his eyes again, only to see that all the _things_ on the outside of the tube had frozen in place. Not only that, they had all turned a particularly vile shade of green. Looking past them, he saw his mother arguing furiously with LaRousse. Finally, she threw her hands up in disgust, marched over to the machine, and pulled the door open.

"Come out, Harry. Monsieur LaRousse will have to find you a wand himself. His _marvelous machine_ doesn't seem to be able to do what it is supposed to do."

LaRousse flushed at the sarcasm evident in Giselle's voice, but rallied quickly. He pulled out a tape measure and measured Harry's right hand, then his height, and disappeared into the back. He reappeared a couple of minutes later, carrying a handful of wands, which he laid down on the counter. Harry had to pick up and brandish each of the wands in turn, while the thin man watched. A few of the wands gave off a faint wisp of light, but the majority just acted like sticks of wood.

A new set of wands was brought out, and Harry had to try all of them. Nothing.

A third set was produced, yielding the same disappointing results.

Finally, in the fourth set, Harry picked up a wand that felt slightly warm in his hand. When he swished it through the air, a small shower of pink sparks came out of the end of it. LaRousse beamed brightly, and declared, "Ah yes, I might have known. For a young boy coming from such a fair mother, a wand made from the hair of a Veela, lovingly crafted inside a perfect length of white pine, which has been laboriously detailed with deeply magical resin from the Tulginatious Coniferous tree. Truly the wand of a champion. And today it is only--"

Giselle interrupted the effusive man with a single word that made him turn red. Harry made a note of it, determined to find out its meaning, although he felt rather sure that it wasn't something he could ask his mother. Maybe Fleur knew?

LaRousse drew himself up, as if to argue, but Giselle spoke again. "You are nothing but a common gutter thief. Even _I_ can tell that this wand is a poor fit for my son! How dare you think you can pass off this shoddy match! I demand you find him a wand that will react the way it should. Or do I need to bring in my husband?"

All the fight seemed to go out of the tall, thin man in an instant. "I am so sorry, Madame. I have done my best--my machine couldn't fit a wand, and I have tried. In all truthfulness, there is no other wand here that will react better to your son than that one. And I know it is a bad match, but it would be better than nothing, non?"

Giselle seemed slightly mollified with the man's dejection. "Is there not anywhere else we could go to find a better match?"

"Madame," the man continued, "there is no other place here in France that has as good a selection. If it is not too much of an undertaking, you might try taking him to Diagon Alley, in London. Ollivander has quite a different methodology for wand-making, after all, he's been around for--sorry, sorry, that's not important. Regardless, he may be able to fit your son with a better wand. But, I beg of you, please take this one, free of charge, so that your son will at least have one that he can use."

Giselle smiled at the man. "Thank you, kind sir. I appreciate your willingness to help us out. And I, of course, can't take this without giving some sort of payment for it." And she would hear nothing else, pressing a small amount of money on the man, which Harry noticed that LaRousse wasn't very reticent in accepting, and shepherding her two children out into the street.

As soon as they exited the shop, Fleur broke into excited chatter. "That was so cool, Harry! You broke the machine! Hah! I've never seen anyone so distraught! And then he couldn't find you a wand! I thought he was going to faint when Mama threatened to bring Papa in to talk with him!" She skipped ahead merrily, not noticing the downcast look on Harry's face.

"Mama?" he asked, tentatively.

"Yes, mon coeur?" she answered.

"I'm sorry I broke that man's machine. I didn't mean to."

"Oh, Harry, don't worry about it. It wasn't your fault, and I'm sure that it needed breaking anyway. After all, if it can't match wands very well, then it needed to be fixed no matter what. I think there's a much more important question to answer."

Harry turned his sad face up to his mother's. "What, Mama?"

Giselle smiled down at him again. "Well, we really need to decide whether we're going to bring Gabby with us to London, don't we?"

Harry stopped, looked at his mum as if she were crazy, then broke out into a huge grin. "We get to go find a better wand for me?" At her answering nod, he threw his arms around her, then ran off to tell Fleur. Giselle just smiled as he ran off, and thanked Merlin, once again, that he had been brought into her life.

oooooooooo

Diagon Alley was a wonderment to Harry. In no way, shape, or form was it better than its Parisian equivalent, but just by its strangeness it captivated him. The narrow, winding, and cobbled street was packed with wizards, all of whom seemed to favor dressing solely in long, flowing robes, as if they were in some past century. All this meant that Giselle had a firm grip on his hand, and occasionally had to pull him away from yet another strange and exciting sight.

"Harry! We need to hurry up! I told Gabby we'd be back in an hour, and you know she'll be watching the clock!"

"I'm sorry, Mama, it's just. . . it's so. . ."

"Old? Run-down? Shoddy?" Giselle supplied.

"No! It's just . . . cool!" Harry knew his mother didn't approve of the slang that he'd picked up from some of the other children, but he didn't know of any better word to describe this fascinating place.

Giselle grimaced. "Well, we really need to get you a wand, so let's make a deal. We'll hurry up to the wand shop, and any time left over we can use looking around, okay?"

Harry thought about that, and nodded his head. To say that he focused his mind solely on getting to the wand shop would be a lie, but at least he walked faster as he gaped.

Finally they reached Ollivander's and stepped inside the dusty old store.

Harry looked around at all the shelves, holding long, thin boxes, and compared it with LaRousse's store. He didn't really like this one, it smelled like old people, and cabbage, but he supposed it did its job.

He turned to his left, and jumped in surprise. A small, stooped, and very gnarled old man was standing right next to him, peering at him through thick spectacles. "Hello there, young man. Off to Hogwarts, I assume?"

Harry looked up at his mum in silent supplication. She smiled down at him, and addressed herself to the presumed Ollivander. "No, sir. My son is going to Beauxbatons, but we were unable to find a wand that suited him at LaRousse's. He suggested we come here. Can you fit him a wand?"

The old man, who had listened with rapt attention, nodded energetically. "Of course we can--I haven't failed to fit a wand in over five hundred years." He turned to Harry. "Now, which is your wand hand, young man?"

Harry answered, "My right hand, sir." But the old man had turned away almost without waiting for an answer. Harry looked down, and found that there was a small, and very excitable tape measure already flitting around his body, taking measurements--of what, Harry couldn't guess. And it seemed as if the old man didn't care either, as he never even looked at the poor tape measure, even when it zipped itself back over to the counter, and fell onto it with a loud _clank_.

"Let's see, rowan, thirteen inches, with a dragon heartstring. . ." Harry took the proffered wand, waved it, and nothing happened. The old man yanked it out of his hand, and thrust another one at him. "This one is oak, seven inches, unicorn hair. . ." Nothing from that one either. Or the next. Or the next. Or the next 37 that he was handed.

Finally the old man paused in his activities. "Well, I do have one that might fit--I had been saving it for a special occasion, but maybe this is it." He went into the back, and came out with one more wand. "This one," he said, "is made of holly. Eleven inches, nice and supple. Has a phoenix feather for the core."

Harry reached for the wand, and thought, just for a moment, that the wand jumped into his hand. But Ollivander either didn't notice, or didn't care to comment, so Harry didn't say anything. In truth, he was too wrapped up in the warmth that he could feel emanating from this wand to do much of anything else.

"Well, give it a wave, Harry," said Giselle, hoping against hope that her shopping trip could finally be over.

Harry gave a grand flourish, and the room filled with light, and a sound like a phoenix warbling. Ollivander smiled, but there was a hint of worry in his look.

"Curious," he muttered. "Very curious indeed."

"How much do we owe you for the wand, Mr. Ollivander?" Giselle asked, hoping to bring him out of his daze.

"Oh, um, thirteen galleons, Madame. But, before you pay, did you happen to buy a wand at LaRousse's?" The old man asked.

Harry answered quickly, "Yes. Here it is--see, it doesn't work very well at all." And he waved it too, to show the difference.

"May I see it? I'm always interested in other wands--I specialize in certain cores, and my, shall we say, fellow enthusiasts tend to gravitate towards other, different, cores. If you'd like, I'd be willing to make a trade with you."

Harry looked up at his mum. She frowned in thought, then nodded. "All right then, this wand for yours. Is that acceptable?"

Ollivander looked up, smiled at her rapid agreement, and nodded his head. Harry handed the Veela-hair wand to the old man, feeling a slight pang at parting with something that had even a slight link to his heritage. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, as his mother hurried him out of the shop.

"Okay, Harry, let's get going. I don't want Gabby to start throwing a tantrum--I don't need Fleur mad at me too."

"But, Mum! You said we could look around if there was some time. Can't we just stop in one store?"

Giselle would have refused the request, but made the mistake of looking at Harry. She sighed, knowing that she shouldn't give in, but those sad eyes really had the power to tug her heartstrings.

"Okay, one store. Which one?"

"The owl store! Please?" Harry hadn't given up on his dream of getting an owl, and now that he had his wand, it was taking center stage in his mind.

"Fine," Giselle answered, "But remember, I don't know if we're going to get you one."

Harry nodded his head, and this time it was he dragging her down the street, to Eeylops Owl Emporium. He was so intent on his goal that he ignored the previously-captivating sights, although a small clump of people with bright red hair almost succeeded in distracting him.

The moment Harry stopped outside the shop, he was in love. There, in the window, was an absolutely beautiful snowy owl. He knew that he wanted her, and by the way the owl looked at him as he dragged his mother inside the shop, she wanted to be his owl.

"Mum! Look at this one! Isn't she beautiful? Oh, and look at her eyes! She's a smart one too! Can I--I mean, may I have her? Please? I promise I'll take good care of her, and clean her cage, and feed her, and give her exercise. Please?"

Giselle took a good long look at the owl. She really was a beautiful bird, and looked very intelligent. She thought for a bit, and decided. "Okay, Harry. We'll get you this owl. But, in return, you have to promise to write me a letter each week while you're at school, okay?"

Harry, who would have promised just about anything, up to and including repotting Venemous Tentacula vines 8 hours a day (although, to be fair, he wasn't exactly sure _what_ a Venemous Tentacula was), was amazed at his good fortune, and immediately agreed.

So it was that Harry Delacour, hidden Savior of the Wizarding World, left Diagon Alley with the wand whose brother had killed his parents, and the owl that Ginny Weasley had stopped to admire on her trip past Eeylops just moments before.


	9. Chapter 9, Arrivals

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 9, **Arrivals**  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, who are as talented as they are beautiful.

oooooooooo

Ginny grinned as she spotted Hermione's bushy hair through the crowd of students thronging the platform.

"Hermione!" she called, attracting the attention of her best friend. The other girl heard the call, and she turned quickly, trying to locate Ginny. Ginny started towards the Granger family, bouncing with excitement for the coming school year, and especially for being a fourth year. It was true that third years were able to go to Hogsmeade, but fourth years--their curfew was extended by an hour.

"Ginny, dear, where are you going?" her mother complained. "Honestly, there are more people here every year. Arthur, make sure Ronald gets on the train, please."

The Weasley family patriarch nodded and smiled faintly. He wished, in times like these, that they still had Bill here, or Charlie even, to help get the rest of the family off to Hogwarts. Even Percy could have been a help. But no, it was just he and Molly to get the twins and Ron and Ginny all settled. Of course, they were all growing up, and, if asked, they'd vehemently deny the need for any parental figure to be involved in the annual ritual. But being a father meant making sure that his kids were safely on board, no matter what they said.

"Ron! Ron!" called a couple of Ron's friends. Dean and Seamus were the other boys in Ron's dorm, and they'd formed a pretty good friendship based on watching Quidditch, talking about Quidditch, and teasing girls.

Before his youngest son could head off, Arthur put an arm around him for a sideways hug. "Ron, behave yourself, okay? Keep an eye on Ginny, please."

Ron ducked his head a bit, looking embarrassed. "I will, Dad." The memory of her second year was rather painful for all involved, and Ron wished he'd done a better job of watching out for her. Sure, they were in different Houses, but he should have noticed how upset she had gotten. Thankfully that whole diary business had been resolved happily, but he had resolved to do a better job of being a brother to her.

"I know you will, son. But remember—you're not her father, you're her brother. So don't interfere unless there's a real problem. Understand?"

Ron nodded his head. "Can I go now? I want to get a compartment with Dean and Seamus."

Arthur hugged him again, then let him go. "Have a good term!" he called as Ron walked away. Then, with a decidedly mischievous grin, he yelled, as loud as he could, "We love you, Ron!" and watched as Ron's face turned bright red and he broke into a clumsy run towards the train.

"Arthur Weasley!"

Arthur turned quickly, but it wasn't really his wife—How his twins had learned to mimic their mother's voice so perfectly was a mystery, but they certainly put it to good use.

Fred came up to one side of his father; George to the other. They both put their arms around Arthur and started chiding him.

"How could you embarrass little Ronnikins in front of all his friends?"

"I declare, I haven't seen him so red since we charmed his pants to sing _Merlin's Saggy Baggy Britches_ whenever he went to the bathroom."

Arthur just chuckled and put an arm around each boy. Thank Merlin at least _some_ of his children still allowed him to show affection. If it weren't for the twins and Ginny, he didn't know what he'd do. Speaking of which. . .

"Fred, George, I need you to do something for me this year."

They looked up at him, momentarily serious. "Sure, Dad. We'll keep an eye on Ginny for you. We always do."

"I know, and I'm very glad for that. But I have a special assignment for you this year. I don't know if you've noticed, but Ginny's getting quite a lot more attention from the boys now that she's, well. . ." Arthur trailed off, not sure how to get his point across without scarring the mental image that the twins had of their younger sister.

Fred and George looked at each other, looked back at their dad, and nodded. "Say no more, Pop, we'll help her out with the boys."

"I don't need to caution you to make sure she doesn't think you're interfering too much, do I?"

The twins just shuddered. Very vivid memories of Bat-Bogey Hexes and wicked fireballs appeared before their eyes, and they shook their heads in unison. "No, Dad, we won't interfere unless it's necessary."

"Good boys. Now, say goodbye to your mother and have a great year."

The twins headed off towards Molly, who was chatting animatedly with the Grangers. Arthur followed along. The Grangers were some of Arthur's favorite people, not least because they were Muggles, but also because of their daughter's befriending of Ginny. The family had been shocked almost beyond comprehension when Ginny had been sorted into Ravenclaw. After all, the Weasleys had been Gryffindors for as far back as they could trace. But after the shock had died off, they were able to see what a good choice the Sorting Hat had made. Ginny had blossomed in Ravenclaw. Ron, of course, had gone into Gryffindor, and separating the two siblings allowed them both to make a place for themselves without the shadow of their supposed twin.

Ginny had found in Hermione Granger a kindred spirit. Having met on the train before their first year, they now did everything together. The summer holidays had been hard on both of them, in spite of owling each other at least once a week. Hermione's parents were delighted that their bookish daughter had found such a compatible friend, and had gladly taken their turn hosting the slumber parties the girls invariable begged for each week.

Unfortunately, Hermione had missed out on the end-of-the-summer excitement when the Weasleys had been able to go to the Quidditch World Cup. Ginny had lamented the absence of her friend, but the Grangers had been in France during that time, and, as Hermione wasn't nearly as interested in Quidditch as she was in French magical history, she declined the invitation.

Arthur joined the group and greeted the Grangers with easy familiarity. Just then the whistle blew, announcing that they had five minutes 'til the train left. Molly and Emma started passing out hugs to the students, which not only included Ginny and Hermione, but Fred and George, as well as Neville Longbottom, who had just arrived.

The students finally escaped from the motherly embraces and made their way to the train. As usual, Hermione, Ginny and Neville started towards their preferred compartment. Luna Lovegood, who was a year behind the trio, was already waiting for them, perusing an issue of the Quibbler, which had, as its headline, _Harry Potter Training with Lunar Moths on Moon's Surface!!_

"Hey, Luna," Ginny greeted her enthusiastically.

Luna looked up quizzically, her face clearing as she noticed who it was in the doorway. "Hello, Ginevra, how are you?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned and said, "Greetings, Neville. Have you told her yet?" Neville blushed a spectacular shade of red, and shook his head quickly. Luna frowned, but let it go. "I'm happy to see you, Hermione—I was worried you might not be on the train this time. Daddy's worried about the possibilities of a niffler insurrection, and I thought you might have had to fortify your house against them."

The older students just smiled, well-used to Luna. Neville hoisted all their trunks up into the overhead racks, and they arranged themselves in the benches for the ride to Hogwarts.

oooooooooo

The trip this year was almost normal for Ginny--the difference being one of degree, rather than type. Trips to Hogwarts on the Express had proven to have certain things in common. It was virtually guaranteed that the twins would stop by. Ron would usually come over with his friends and say something stupid to make Hermione mad (Ginny thought that maybe Ron fancied Hermione). Draco Malfoy would come by with his bodyguards and sneer at Ginny for being poor, at Hermione for being a Muggle-born, at Neville for being a Squib, and at Luna for being, well, Luna. And there would be a steady parade of boys visiting their compartment to greet Ginny. It always bothered her, but she hated to resort to violence to get peace. And she always hoped that they wouldn't have to put a locking charm on the door, as that tended to discourage people that she really wanted to talk to. But why she should expect this year to be any different she didn't know. As the ride went on, she got more and more frustrated at all the commotion. Finally, after Dean Thomas had sat and told her, in exhausting detail, about how footballs were made, she had had enough.

Jumping to her feet, she pulled her wand. "All right!" she yelled, "everybody get out! Leave my compartment! I don't want to talk to any of you, I don't want to hear anything you have to say, and I certainly don't want to know about footballs!" The boys in the room, collectively, sighed in wonder at the sight of a furious Ginny Weasley. In truth, Ginny had come into her own over the summer. Her hair had darkened slightly, from the orange of the Weasley boys, to a lustrous deep red. She had gained a couple of inches in height, and had developed in such a way that there was no doubt she was a female. While she'd never be exceedingly voluptuous, she had a slender grace, with curves that perfectly fit her. And now, with her eyes flashing and hair almost alive in her ire, she was splendid.

Until the first bat-bogeys started flapping around Dean's head, and the spell was broken.

Ten seconds later, it was just the four of them in the compartment again, and Hermione had cast the annual Locking Charm at the door.

Ginny stood there for awhile longer, letting her anger subside. Finally she threw herself into her seat, and let out a deep breath. "I tried, Hermione. I really did. But they were worse than normal today. What's gotten into them?"

Hermione sat back with pursed lips. Luna shook her head and said, "Nargles—they infested the portal and everyone got them into their hair. It's a well-known fact that boys are more susceptible." Then she went back to her magazine. Neville shook his head a bit, as if dislodging a fly, and sighed.

Ginny turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

Neville raised his hands in supplication. "Don't get mad at me, Ginny, please?"

She closed her eyes and slumped back. "I'm sorry, Neville. It's just been getting so annoying. It was this bad at the World Cup! I mean, they're acting like they've seen a Veela or something! I still don't understand it! It's not like I'm some sort of beauty, like Cho Chang, or Daphne Greengrass. I'm just Ginny!"

Neville smiled again. "Ginny, don't say that—you've always been pretty. And I'm sure you probably didn't notice, but you've really changed over the summer. You really are beautiful--" Neville didn't notice Hermione's quick frown., "--and those boys just need to get used to you again."

Ginny stared at her friend, nonplussed. "What? I haven't changed that much, have I?" She turned to Hermione. "Tell him, Hermione. I'm just me, not some beauty queen!"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, Ginny. I'm with Neville. You maybe didn't see it, but the summer's been very good to you. You've gotten taller, and your hair is just beautiful. And you've developed. . ." she cast a quick glance at Neville, who was turning pink. She cleared her throat. "You've developed into quite a beautiful young lady. I'd be jealous of you, if you weren't my best friend."

Ginny lapsed into silence. Sure, she might have grown a bit, but she'd always seen herself as being insignificant. To find that two of her three best friends thought she was beautiful was quite a shocking revelation. "But, Neville, you don't act like a besotted fool around me."

Neville smiled his lopsided grin at her. "Ginny, I'd much rather be your friend. I've always thought you were pretty, but I've known you for a long time, and I'm used to you. I know that you don't see me as anything other than a friend, and I like that. It's nice to know that I'm the one boy in Hogwarts that you don't have to worry about."

Ginny felt her eyes get suspiciously moist at this. It truly was a blessing to have a safe male friend—one that wouldn't all of a sudden try to kiss her, like Colin. Or try to hold her hand, like that Michael Corner bloke.

Neville looked over at Hermione, who was staring at him with a calculating look in her eye, until she realized he was looking back. She started, and looked away quickly, her face reddening rather impressively.

Luna chose that moment to come out of her magazine. "Do you think Harry Potter will come to Hogwarts after he finishes on the Moon?"

"Why would we?" Hermione asked. "He was supposed to start at Hogwarts the same time as the three of us, but never showed. I can't imagine him all of a sudden coming out of nowhere to attend school with us."

Ginny frowned at that. Truthfully, she had been rather disappointed at not having seen Harry Potter—she felt a sort of kinship with him, and thought that maybe they could have been good friends. But the letters she'd written to him had always come back, and finally she had given up. She'd eventually gotten over her disappointment, and who knew? Maybe someday he'd return to the Wizarding World, and she'd get to see him. . .

oooooooooo

The Fearsome Foursome (as they were referred to by their Housemates) arranged themselves at their respective House tables and waited anxiously for the Welcoming Feast to begin. Ginny wasn't too interested in the Sorting, aside from applauding new additions to Ravenclaw, as she was rather hungry. But when Headmistress McGonagall arose and began to speak, she found herself forgetting all about food.

"Good evening, and welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we start the Feast, I wish to make an announcement of some importance."

The Hall, which had quieted down, got louder again as everyone commented to their neighbors.

"Silence, please!" When quiet once again reigned, she continued. "As many of you know, the closest major Magic Schools to us are Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. We have been in discussions with the respective Heads of those schools in an effort to promote inter-school amity, and are pleased to announce the first Tri-School Quidditch Tournament!"

At this, Ron Weasley's voice could be heard throughout the Hall, "That's bloody brilliant!"

The rest of the students tittered nervously, and Ron turned bright red and ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Headmistress McGonagall said, with nary a hint of humor in her voice. "The students from those schools will be arriving on November first. Each school will have an A team and a B team, with another complete set of substitutes. The next two months will provide time for our team members to be selected and to start practicing together. Madam Hooch will oversee the choosing of the teams and will have more information. Now, let us eat!"

oooooooooo

"So, Ginny, are you going to try out for the Quidditch teams?" Hermione asked as they walked back to their dorms.

Ginny knew that Hermione didn't really care about Quidditch that much. She'd much rather be reading, or studying, or writing, or planning how to do the aforementioned tasks. But she attended all the Ravenclaw games to support Ginny, who was one of the Chasers for their house team, and that made Ginny happy.

"Of course, Hermione! I can't think of anything more exciting than being able to play on the Hogwarts' team! I mean, I probably won't be able to be on the A team—the Gryffindor chasers have more experience than I do. But I think I could probably get on the B team. I mean, Slytherin doesn't have good chasers—they depend solely on their Beaters and the speed of their brooms. Hufflepuff has a great Seeker, but their Chasers are all pretty inexperienced. And I'm the best Chaser on our team, so as long as Madam Hooch is the one judging, I should get to play."

Hermione smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. She had worried, off and on, about Ginny. Like most girls, Hermione had started paying attention to boys already. In fact, starting around second year she had kept an eye on one specific boy, hoping that she'd be able to attract his attention when he decided to get his hormones. But Ginny hadn't ever shown any interest in any bloke. She had male friends, that was true, and there was a rather large portion of the Hogwarts boys that would have done just about anything to date her, including, to her everlasting disgust, Draco Malfoy. But nothing Ginny'd ever done had indicated that she wanted a boyfriend. In fact, some of the less charitable Slytherins had started some rather salacious rumors about Ginny's preferences. But, to be honest, Ginny had never shown any interest in girls, either.

It wasn't that Ginny hadn't hit puberty—she obviously had, judging by the physical changes that she'd gone through over the summer—Hermione thought maybe it was just that Ginny had never found any boy worthy of her attention. And, to be fair, a lot of the boys at Hogwarts were rather immature, and Hermione didn't blame Ginny for staying out of the dating scene.

So, Hermione was very glad that Ginny had Quidditch to sink herself into. In the absence of any potential boyfriends, Ginny could concentrate on being a Chaser—well, and her studies, of course—and look forward to a rather promising career after graduation. But sometimes she worried.

"I'm sure you'll get on the team, Ginny—and I'll come see all your games, as always. But just think! We get to meet wizards and witches from the Continent! It'll be fascinating to talk to them, and find out about their schools. I bet the ones from Beauxbatons will have such a different view on the Goblin rebellions—oh, I wonder if we can visit some of their classes. . ."

Ginny grinned at Hermione. She was grateful for Hermione's support of their Quidditch team, in spite of the brunette's lack of interest. She also knew that Hermione worried about her and her lack of interest in boys. Truth be told, she was occasionally worried about it herself. It wasn't that she didn't want a boyfriend—she had the normal complement of hormones, and dreams about boys. But the idea of actually kissing any of the boys she knew was enough to make her vomit. She had never met any boy that had sparked any sort of interest in her, and that, occasionally, made her sad. She had heard the rumors from the Slytherins, and they made her laugh, but she sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with her. She sighed, and Hermione looked at her quizzically.

"Nothing, Hermione. I was just thinking about boys."

Hermione perked up. "Any specific boy?" she asked, curious as to whether her friend was actually turning into a normal girl.

"No—not really--" she stopped, very aware that she and Hermione were not alone. In fact, Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner were both avidly, and unashamedly, listening to the conversation, with identical looks of desperate hope on their faces.

Ginny shot them a disgusted look and turned to Hermione with their normal let's-talk-in-the-dorms look. They stopped outside the portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw long enough to give the answer to the question of the day, then hurried inside, anxious to finish their conversation away from prying ears.

Once they were safely in the dormitory, and getting ready for bed, Hermione gave Ginny _The Look_.

"Well, Hermione. . . it's just that. . ." she sat down on her bed. "Why aren't there any guys around that I like? I mean—some of the boys in the school are really nice. Michael Corner, in spite of being a major git, is handsome, and Dean Thomas is a good artist. Justin is very chivalrous, and Cedric Diggory is a great Quidditch player. But they all just leave me cold. Maybe I'll never find anyone that I like. Maybe I'll just join the Harpies out of school and grow old without any guy in my life. I can collect kneazles, right?"

Hermione chuckled at this and moved to sit next to her friend.

"I mean, I'm fourteen, shouldn't I start being interested in someone? Cho's already pining after Cedric, and Mandy's been in 3 serious relationships already, and that was just on the train ride! Even you—you've decided that you fancy Neville!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open, and she gasped. "What are you. . . How did you. . . ?"

Ginny just glared at Hermione, who blushed and lowered her eyes. "Come on, Hermione—I _know_ you. And don't worry, I'm sure he'll notice you this year. I mean, we've got a whole bunch of other students coming to visit Hogwarts—that's got to mean we'll have some sort of Ball, or something like that. And even if he doesn't ask you, you can get all prettied up and knock his socks off. But we're not talking about you—we're supposed to be figuring out me!"

Hermione valiantly contained her blush, and got her mind back on track. "I don't know, Ginny. Everybody develops at a different rate, so maybe you're just developing late. Just 'cause your body is maturing, that doesn't mean your interest in boys is developing too."

"But I have dreams about boys—or at least, I dream about kissing and . . . stuff." She blushed, but continued on. "I mean, I _know_ about kissing, and stuff like that, and I want to do that, but not with any guy I've ever met. And what's worse—any time some guy tries to chat me up, I just feel sick."

Hermione leaned on the headboard and put on her thinking face. Well, since she _always_ had a thinking face, she put on her _Thinking about an extremely difficult problem_ face. "Ginny, maybe. . . maybe it's something to do with your birth family. . ."

Ginny's mouth dropped open—as a rule, Hermione never mentioned Ginny's status as an adopted Weasley. Hermione looked up, a little worried that Ginny would be upset for her bringing it up. "I mean, I know you're happy with your family and all, but if we found out more about your birth family, maybe that would explain why you're so uninterested in the boys around here."

Ginny still couldn't think of anything to say, and Hermione decided that she'd really blundered. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't mean to make you upset or anything. Just. . . just forget I said anything, okay?"

"No!" Ginny finally managed to get out. "No, Hermione. I'm not mad--I just never thought about that. I mean, it's a brilliant idea! Bill is always telling us about the different types of magical people and some of their customs, and it might explain things. Maybe I come from a family that, I don't know, all have some type of magic put on them so they won't date until they're, like, 21 or something." She thought for a bit. "Um, Hermione?" she asked, in a rather wheedling tone.

Hermione smiled at her friend, very glad that she hadn't offended her. "Yes, Ginny, I'll start researching. But I need to know anything you can tell me about yourself, okay?"

"Okay!" Ginny bounced a bit on the bed. "I'll owl my parents and see if they can tell me anything." She looked down. "I'll have to explain what's going on, so they don't think I'm sad to be a Weasley. Maybe I'll ask Dad--he'll understand better than Mum will, I think." She threw her arms around her best friend. "Thank you, Hermione! And, even if we don't find anything, I can just make something up, and tell everyone I'm under an ancient curse or something--Ooooh, I'll tell them that any boy I kiss before I turn 25 will have his. . . well, will have body parts rot and fall off. That'll make them back off."

Hermione looked scandalized at this, but couldn't hide the laughter that bubbled up as she envisioned Michael Corner's face when he found out about the supposed curse. Ginny hugged Hermione again, grateful again for her best friend, while Hermione thanked her lucky stars for having been able to meet someone like Ginny.

oooooooooo

November first was a cold, rainy day at Hogwarts. The anticipation of having the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrive was alloyed by the school-wide edict that they'd all await their foreign visitors outside, on the front lawn. Of course, classes for the afternoon were canceled so as to give everyone the opportunity to congregate, so that was a bonus. All in all, Ginny thought, it was a slight net positive. Yeah, they had to wait out in the cold weather, but they got out of classes for the afternoon. Besides, Hermione was very good with Warming Charms, so they weren't too uncomfortable.

Hermione, on the other hand, was distraught over missing Arithmancy and Potions. She never liked to miss classes, feeling that if she had to pay money for an education, then she should be able to get as much education as possible! But her concerns about the lack of teaching were warring inside her with the pleasure that she felt at . . . Well, she just _really_ enjoyed the company she was keeping.

Neville was happy to be outside, period. He had discovered, quite early on in his education, that Herbology was incredibly interesting. He kept up fine in the other classes, although he wasn't top of the class in them, by availing himself of the combined help of Hermione, Ginny, and, to a lesser extent, Luna, three of the brightest witches he knew. The Hufflepuff Helpers, the cadre of older students who held study sessions every evening for those who needed extra tutoring, had also been instrumental in his academic advancement. But the study of plants--now that was incredible. He had grown to love Professor Sprout, both because of her kindness and her great store of plant lore, and had decided, midway through first year, that working with plant life was what he wanted to do when he grew up. He had discussed this with Professor Sprout, and she had started having him help out in his spare time. Now, if only he could catch the attention of--

"I can't believe we have to stand out here waiting," came the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy, holding court nearby. "If my father knew I was being exposed to the elements like this, he'd be in quite a rage."

Ginny had heard, and she turned to face the Slytherins. "I'm sure he would be, Malfoy!" she called, loudly enough to make sure everyone around them heard. Heads started turning as the students realized who, exactly, was speaking, and to whom. "I mean," she continued, "can you imagine? Knowing that the vaunted heir of the Malfoy family is such a sub-par wizard that he can't even cast a Warming Charm would be even worse than knowing he didn't make _any_ of the Hogwarts Quidditch teams! He must be really regretting those brooms he bought the Slytherins!"

The laughter that followed was obviously rather embarrassing to the blond boy, as his face took on a distinctly ugly look and he started forward, reaching for his wand. Ginny just looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy, are you really sure you want to pull your wand on me? Don't you remember the last time you did that? Did you like the hospital wing that much? I'm certainly willing to burn your new wand and hand the same way. . ." and she started raising her hand towards him.

Draco's face lost what little color it had, and he apparently decided that it would be safer somewhere else. Hermione started giggling, hearing the chorus of offended yelps and curse words that followed the path of the blond aristocrat's rather hindered flight through the densely-packed crowd.

Luna, who had watched curiously as the scene unfolded, commented, apparently to nobody, "He must have forgotten to check his knickers for dooranges--they do tend to bite, you know. . ."

Ginny looked at her, then started to giggle too, until she thought about it too much. "Luna! Now I have that image in my mind--ewwww! Malfoy in girl's underwear! Hermione, can you please obliviate me?"

Hermione was apparently just as disgusted, but thankfully, at that moment, Colin Creevey's voice was heard over the crowd. "Hey, look at the sky!"

As one, the assembled students looked upward. After a bit of searching, they noticed a speck in the distance, over the lake. As they watched, it grew bigger and bigger.

Mandy yelled, "It's a flying house!"

Other people chimed in with their guesses, until Dennis Creevey yelled, "It's Santa Claus!" and then promptly hid behind his brother in embarrassment.

Eventually the flying . . . thing. . . got close enough for the Hogwarts student to make out what it was. It was a very, very, very large flying carriage, powder blue in color, being pulled by enormous horses. Ginny heard Hermione whispering, "But Abraxans don't fly. Maybe they have a propulsion charm. Or it's an illusion. Would that be how Saint Nicholas gets around? Reindeer don't fly either. But the amount of magic involved must be incredible!"

The carriage finally landed, with quite a loud THUMP and some rather noisy clopping of the Abraxan hooves. When the whole thing had slowed to a stop, the students let out a breath that they had been unknowingly holding, as no-one had been completely sure the carriage would stop before running into the walls.

Eventually, a door opened in the side, which triggered a small set of stairs to be lowered to the ground. Out of the door came what had to be the largest woman Ginny had ever seen. If Hagrid was a half-giant, then this woman had to be at least three-quarters giantess. Headmistress McGonagall stepped forward to greet her.

"Madame Maxime, how nice to see you. You have a beautiful carriage here." Who knew McGonagall could be so charming?

"Ah, yes, Headmistress McGonagall, it has been too long. How is the Scottish weather treating you?"

The conversation dealt with such pleasantries for awhile, until one of the students noticed that the Beauxbatons students had all disembarked, and were standing behind their Headmistress. To be fair, Madame Maxime was so large, and so vibrant, that it was easy to overlook anyone else in her (figurative AND literal) shadow. Regardless, the Beauxbatons students had lined up, and looked to be casting Warming Charms on each other while they waited for the opportunity to pass into the castle.

Pleasantries apparently over, Madame Maxime turned to her students and said, "Allez!" and started walking towards Hogwarts. The students, all dressed in blue cloaks--the girls in very light blue, and the boys in a darker shade--followed her. As the visitors drew closers, snatches of conversation could be heard from them, although it was mostly in French, so only Hermione was able to understand anything. What Ginny _could_ understand, however, was the babble from her fellow students.

"Cor! Look at her--she's gorgeous!"

"I know--I wouldn't mind catching the Quaffle from her, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, but look at the guy she's with--I don't think we've got a chance."

"Oh, Merlin--look at that one. He's incredible! I just want to run my hand through that hair!"

"I know--look at those shoulders--doesn't it make you wonder what it'd be like to be in his arms?"

"But she's so pretty--he'll never look anywhere else when he's got her."

Ginny was rather frustrated--the shallowness of the Hogwarts students was so embarrassing--she couldn't believe that they were all drooling over these foreign students. Sometimes she wished she could have gone somewhere more. . . cerebral. Although that probably would have meant that she couldn't play Quidditch. She sighed--oh well, only three and a half more years 'til graduation.

The Beauxbatons columns were coming closer, and, by happenstance, the crowd melting away in front of them made it so that the Fearsome Foursome was now in the front row, with a perfect view of the visitors.

Ginny looked at them curiously, and the first one she saw must have been the girl that Dean and Ron had been discussing. She was tall, willowy, and blond. But that didn't really describe her. Her face was perfect--angelic, with bright eyes and an easy smile. Her skin seemed to glow in the overcast lighting, and as she walked, she seemed to glide over the ground, as if she were dancing. Ginny's mind seemed to catch a bit at seeing this girl--she looked a little familiar, perhaps. A whisper from Hermione caught her attention.

"I bet she's at least part Veela--Ginny, didn't you say there were Veela at the World Cup?"

"Yeah, I did. She looks a lot like them." Which probably explained the feeling of familiarity Ginny had.

But then she saw the boy walking with the blond. He was shorter than his companion, but that didn't matter. His hair was black, and he wore glasses. Lavender was right--he _was_ muscular, but not overly so. It looked perfect on his frame. Ginny was shocked--he was the most incredibly attractive person she had ever seen. In fact, she was experiencing a rushing emotion that she'd never felt before. Her skin was warm, and her breath came faster as she watched him walk towards where they were standing. Visions of the two of them kissing, and dancing, and . . . well, hazy ideas of beds and candles, too, took over her brain, and all she could do was stand there and stare at this. . . this. . . this man.

Beside her, Hermione was breathing faster also. He was incredibly handsome to her, too, although she knew that he'd never really be her type. But that certainly didn't stop her from looking, and looking, and looking some more. She felt vaguely guilty for thinking him so attractive, but a sideways glance showed her that Neville was staring at the blond girl with much the same look in his eyes, so she assuaged her guilt. She looked at Ginny, about to comment on the black-haired boy, but when she saw the besotted (and confused) look on the redhead's face, she fell silent. _Oh my,_ she thought. _Ginny's finally got her hormones. And she's fallen for someone who already has a girlfriend._ She was just about to put her arm around her friend to comfort her when Ginny took a step forward.

Hermione looked up, shocked, to see the black-haired boy walking straight toward them.

Ginny had been staring, and staring at the couple. She knew that this boy would probably never even give her the time of day--why would he, when he had such a goddess next to him? But she couldn't help but keep looking. And as she looked, he turned his head towards her, as if he could. . . smell her, or feel her, or something. His eyes connected with hers, and she thought, hazily, that she'd never seen eyes so piercingly green, or so loving. She couldn't help the attraction she felt, and she unconsciously took a step towards him.

He, for his part, had left the side of the blond goddess, and was walking directly at Ginny. She held her breath, sure that she was dreaming, until he stopped right in front of her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face.

"Hi," he said, just loudly enough for her to hear. "I've been looking for you."

She tried to speak, but couldn't seem to make her mouth move. He smiled at her again and moved closer. His arms went around her waist, and hers automatically went around his neck, and she was kissing him. Kissing him with her heart, her soul. Trying to move even closer to this incredibly handsome man who, for some reason, wanted her. She could tell he wanted her--he was kissing her back with as much desperation, as much passion, as she was feeling. Her heart felt as if fireworks were exploding inside of it, and she would have worried about it, if her brain had been able to comprehend anything. But all her thoughts were centered only on how complete she felt; how unbearably happy she had become. She had thought, in the past, that she'd been happy at times, but this. . . this was pure joy. The shivers that ran over her skin seemed to concentrate in her legs, and she worried momentarily about falling over. But his arms tightened even more around her, as if he felt her bonelessness, and she relaxed into their secure embrace. Finally, finally she could understand why people liked to kiss. She'd never experienced anything like a lover's kiss--the closest had been when her friend Ricky, from the village, had kissed her on the cheek on a dare--but the kiss she was receiving now had everything she'd ever hoped, ever dreamed, and never even knew that she wanted. Eons might have passed as she stood there, entwined in the arms of the black-haired boy, giving him everything he asked for and taking everything she wanted. And as they kissed, the sound of the crowd faded away, even Hermione's long sigh of happiness. All of Ginny's senses became completely dedicated to this wonderful person whom she had given her heart to, and she knew that she'd never be able to love anyone else.


	10. Chapter 10, First Impressions

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 10, **First Impressions**  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, who are as talented as they are beautiful.

oooooooooo

Of course, the first people to see Hogwarts were the ones seated in the front of the carriage--specifically those on the left side, as they were coming in from the north. Why, Harry didn't know, seeing as how Beauxbatons was definitely south of Hogwarts, but then he hadn't been consulted when they planned the flight path of the Abraxan-drawn conveyance.

Harry himself was seated towards the back, next to the two other people in his year who had qualified for the trip. Fleur was seated up towards the front with her friends, in one of the prime spots, but the voices he'd heard exclaiming over the sight didn't include hers. That was one of the things Harry liked best about his sister--she didn't act like a giggling, besotted girl very often. One of the other things was that she was never too busy to greet him in the halls, or take time out to chat with him about her love life, and his lack thereof.

"Can you see it yet?" Josette asked from beside Harry. Josette was a beautiful brunette, with a stunning smile and hazel eyes. She had been selected as first-string Chaser, and Harry had been over the moon with pride. Despite having come from a Muggle background, she had taken to the sport like a nargle to mistletoe, handily overcoming the perceived handicap, and was now being touted as one of the best players to come through Beauxbatons. She had set her sights on Harry when she'd first seen him at their Welcoming Feast, and it had taken awhile for her to concede defeat. Harry was unutterably grateful that she had--it had been rather uncomfortable to find himself squarely in the wandsights of the very determined girl. But they'd finally been able to overcome the twin obstacles of her desires and his utter lack of same, and become fast friends.

"No," he answered, "the great lummox here is blocking the view."

Harry's other friend turned and cast a rather hurt glare back, but it wasn't taken seriously by the other two. Michel had won a spot as a beater, which wasn't surprising to anyone who knew him. He was, to put it bluntly, huge. He looked as if he lifted small oxen for a light workout, and ate dragon steaks, rare, for a snack. In spite of his imposing figure, he was one of the nicest people Harry had ever met, and was widely regarded as being constitutionally unable to hurt so much as a flobberworm. On the Quidditch Pitch, however, all bets were off, as he swung a specially-modified bat (longer and wider than the regularly-sized ones, which looked like toothpicks in his hands) with all the abandon of a basilisk trying to kill roosters. There were only one or two other circumstances where he would get mad. The first was being called Michel. Having been exposed to classic American movies as a child, he had decided that Michel was not nearly manly enough for him--no, he demanded that everyone (except his mother) call him Tex. The second was if anyone dared say anything even slightly critical of Josette. He had loved her from afar since their first year, and done an admirable job of concealing it.

Tex turned back to the window and grunted. "They don't do half-bad at gothic foreboding, do they?" he commented.

Harry and Josette engaged in a furious, although friendly, battle to be the first to see past Tex out the window. Tex leaned back, and the other two caught their first glimpse of Hogwarts.

"It's so grey!" Josette exclaimed, and Harry snorted.

"Of course, silly! It was originally a fortress, built to withstand the Muggles of that time, and they didn't have time to make it into a palace."

"Well, they still could have done _something_, couldn't they?" Josette asked.

The carriage made a rather sharp turning descent at that moment, interrupting the conversation.

"Great Merlin," Tex breathed out, upon seeing the grounds in front of the castle. "They're all on the lawn outside. I guess they figure that black robes go with anything, don't they?"

Harry had to laugh; it certainly seemed that the color of choice was black for the entire student body. Here and there he caught a glimpse of yellow, or blue, but it seemed that the Hogwarts students weren't given a lot of clothing choices, which put a damper on their standing out individually. Harry was grateful that the Beaxubatons dress code allowed for more than just the blue they were wearing for this occasion.

The ground came up at them in a final rush, and they touched down with a loud _Thump_!, although that was more for effect than anything else, as the magical dampening springs took the impact quite nicely. They rolled to a stop, and all the inhabitants of the carriage broke into excited whispers. The Headmistress arose then, and everyone went quiet.

"As you may have noticed, my students, we have arrived. I hope you already understand the importance of first impressions, so I won't belabor the point. But please, remember who you are, and what you represent."

The students shuffled nervously, each hoping that they wouldn't be the one to trip during their walk through the massed ranks of Hogwarts students.

"Now, let us meet our hosts!" she called, and everyone rose to file out of the carriage.

As soon as Fleur stepped out onto the grass, she stepped to one side, waiting for her little brother. Fleur was a very self-confident woman, of age, and well aware of the impact she had on males who hadn't had an opportunity to acclimate themselves to her beauty. To that end, the Delacour siblings had worked out a method for giving themselves a little space.

Harry looked around as he stepped down onto the grass, and smiled as he saw his big sister. "Hi, Fleur! Thanks for waiting for me! Can you believe this place?"

"Hey, Harry. Hi, Tex. Where's Jos-- Oh, there you are. Are you all ready to go?"

The trio nodded their heads and fell into their normal positions around the 17-year-old beauty.

"And the weather. . ." Harry continued. "It's so drizzly. I mean, sure it's October and all that, but I don't know that I could live in a place that's so damp all the time."

Tex rumbled a laugh deep in his chest, and Harry looked up at him in question.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just thinking that we might have all been born over here, and this would be normal for us. For all we know, you would have grown up loving the rain and being homesick when you weren't here."

Josette nodded, having thought the same thing.

Harry thought for a bit, then conceded the point. "But," he pointed out, "I didn't, so I can complain all I want." He switched his attention to his big sister. "Well, Fleur, what are you going to tell all the boys here? You don't have a boyfriend right now, so are you going to play the field?"

Fleur had thought quite a bit about this very point. While she enjoyed the attention that came from being a Veela, at least most of the time, she had gotten to the point where it was rather tiring. "I don't know, Harry. I'm not sure I want to be the belle of the ball—I mean, I'll definitely keep my eyes open, but I think I might just be ready for a real man."

Harry gasped, then giggled (which he hated, because he always thought it made him sound like a child). "A real man? Well, aren't you--"

Fleur waited a bit, but when Harry didn't say anything more, she turned to see what was the matter. Harry hadn't stopped walking, but it was very clear that his attention was elsewhere. His gaze was fixed somewhere ahead of them and off to the right, and his eyes had taken on a light that Fleur had never seen before. He looked. . . _captivated_ was the only word Fleur could think of to describe him. His face had taken on a slight reddish tint, but it was equally obvious that he hadn't noticed.

As Fleur watched, Harry turned away from the other three, and started walking towards some specific point in the crowd. Curious, she turned to see if she could figure out where he was headed. It was rather difficult to discern amongst the masses of students, but as she scanned the group, her eyes caught on a red-headed girl. She was staring back at Harry with the same intensity, and his path would take him straight to her.

_Oh my,_ she thought. _Harry's found his Mate!_ She couldn't suppress a little squeal of delight, and a burgeoning hope that she and the mysterious girl would be able to be friends.

oooooooooo

Harry couldn't think straight. He had been chatting with his sister, and his two friends, talking about. . . something he couldn't quite recollect, when he had seen her. She was standing in the crowd, or rather, she was standing _out_ from the crowd. Her beautiful hair, the color of a summer sunset, called out to him to notice her. Below that was a face that, to him, defined _beauty_. Looked at objectively, she was _cute_ rather than _beautiful_, but Harry found himself completely unable to look at her in such a dispassionate manner. She had stolen his heart already, and he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever be more perfect for him than she was.

He found himself walking directly towards her, without knowing how that had happened. It felt. . . vitally important, somehow, that he talk to her, touch her face, kiss her, as if he would stop breathing forever if he couldn't do those things with her. He blushed slightly as thoughts of doing even more than kissing crossed his mind, but somehow it didn't feel wrong, or dirty, or even too mature for him.

He was in front of her now, and any nervousness he might have felt was swallowed up in joy at being so close to her.

"Hi," he breathed. "I've been looking for you."

And then she was in his arms, seemingly without anything so mundane as having had to consciously move there. He wrapped his arms around her back as she put hers around his neck. Their lips moved together of their own accord, and they were kissing. _Kissing_ seemed like such a minor, inadequate word to describe something that felt like a merging of. . . of souls, or minds, or hearts, or something equally deep. The moment their lips touched, Harry knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, what his mother had meant by _fireworks._ His heart pounded, the blood rushed through his ears, and all he could think about was the softness of her lips, her arms, her body next to his. He pulled her even closer, amazed that she fit so perfectly in the space in front of him. It was more than that, though, she was filling up the spaces inside of him, too. It was as if they had been made for each other, from the same piece of human clay, so that they matched perfectly. Two halves of a whole that, when reunited, became one individual again.

The crowd around them ceased to exist for Harry. All his senses were wrapped up in kissing this beautiful girl, and if he could spend the rest of his life holding her, it still wouldn't be long enough. At that moment, she moaned, deep in her throat, and Harry realized that, as brilliant as it was to have been kissing her quietly, having her make small sounds like that was even better. He immediately set a new goal—to make her make that sound as often as possible.

It was at that point that the world came crashing back into their awareness in the form of a very loud, very angry voice.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER, YOU BLOODY--"

"Ron!" came another voice, slightly deeper and less angry. "Shut up! You're making a fool of yourself!"

Harry reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, backed off from the kiss, although he didn't let the red-haired girl move from his embrace. He leaned back slightly, so as to be able to focus on his Mate, for he knew that this girl, this goddess, was his Mate, just as he knew that he would forever be hers.

She slowly opened her eyes, which were a deep, rich brown that put him in mind of his mother's favorite dark chocolate truffles. Peering up at him, they shone with a bright, clear light, and evident good humor.

Harry cleared his throat, but she beat him to the punch. "So, do you usually kiss random strangers as soon as you set foot on English soil?"

Coming from anyone else, that might have sounded critical, but her voice was devoid of any recriminations, and Harry found himself enchanted once again.

"No, not really. But when I finally find the most beautiful woman in the world, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

The red-head blushed, much to Harry's delight. Her blush started from her neckline (which Harry was trying hard not to notice too much, although the skin there fairly begged to be kissed) and slowly spread up through her cheeks, finally covering her forehead, and even extending to her ears.

"Why, thank you, kind sir, for your flattering words, although I'm not sure how much I should believe."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, when, once again, the rest of the world intruded.

"Mister Delacour! What is the meaning of this?" The Headmistresses of both Beauxbatons and Hogwarts, who had been making pleasant small talk, had made their way over to investigate the disturbance in what they had hoped would be an orderly, stately procession, but now was a mass of giggling, whispering students headed vaguely in the same direction.

Harry turned to look at Madame Maxime, still loath to let his Mate out of his arms, but before he could speak, Fleur opened her mouth.

"Madame Maxime, do you remember the discussion that you and I had at the beginning of my second year?"

The giant woman looked taken aback for a second, until comprehension blossomed on her face. She looked at the blond girl and raised one eyebrow in question. Fleur nodded firmly, and smiled.

"Well, then. That does change things, doesn't it? Mister Delacour? Would you be so kind as to bring Miss. . ."

"Weasley, Olympe," interjected the Hogwarts Headmistress, saving Harry the embarrassment of having to ask his Mate's name.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. Would you be willing to bring Miss Weasley with you into the Great Hall? We don't want to hold up the rest of the school, and I suspect that Professor Karkaroff will be arriving soon."

Harry, unable to believe his good fortune at not being soundly scolded in front of the students, looked questioningly at the small girl in his arms. She nodded, smile still firmly in place, and they turned to walk with the rest of the Beauxbatons students.

Unnoticed by any of the small group, three red-headed boys were engaged in a furious argument off to one side.

"But he was mauling her! Didn't you see? He just grabbed her and started kissing her! If Professor McGonagall hadn't stopped them, he probably would have dragged her off to that ridiculous carriage and shagged her right there!"

"RON!" interrupted one of the identical twins. "Just shut up, okay?"

The younger boy finally managed to calm down enough to listen, and the twins took turns explaining what they'd talked to their father about.

"So, you're just going to let him do whatever he wants to Ginny? That's. . . that's. . .!"

"Exactly right, little bro. We saw what happened, and didn't like it either. But I don't think you really saw what was going on."

"I saw enough! He was kissing her, right there in front of everyone!"

"Ah, you didn't pay enough attention--let us explain."

"First, did you see Ginny fighting him at all?"

Ron thought for a bit. "Um. . . I. . . but he just--"

"Shut up, Ron! We watched, and it looked to me like Ginny was as anxious to kiss him as he was to kiss her. She certainly didn't push him away, did she?"

"I guess not. But--"

"No, Ron. Listen! That was no one-sided kiss, okay? They both wanted it, and they were both holding each other."

"But--"

"--And!" one twin interrupted. "We've taught Ginny how to get rid of guys she doesn't want around. She asked us back when she was eleven, and she knows how to use her knee just fine. Did you see her knee him?"

". . . No. . ." came the sullen response.

"Okay, then. Obviously she didn't mind what was going on. And we promised Dad that we'd help protect her, but not interfere if it wasn't necessary. And that means that we're also going to stop you from butting in where it's not wanted, okay?"

Ron thought for a bit. "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitantly. "I just. . . I just want her to be okay."

"What have you done with Ron? Are you taking Polyjuice Potion? Oi, Fred, I think something's happened to Ron!" declared one of the twins.

"Shut it, you two," Ron growled. "I just. . . I know that I haven't been the best brother, but . . . but I really do want her to be happy, and safe. I mean, she _is_ my sister, and even though I get mad at her, I love her."

The twins looked at each other, faces full of amazement. "George," Fred said. "I think Ron might just be growing up."

"Merlin! That just . . ." George turned to his youngest brother. "Ron, I hope you know that you just lost me three galleons. I had picked no earlier than next July. Why couldn't you have stayed stupid for just nine more months?"

"What? You were betting on me? You're just. . . I can't believe. . . Augh!" he finally yelled, and made to punch Fred on the arm.

Fred caught his fist, and threw it back at him. "Ron, you have to understand—you haven't given us a healthy appreciation of your ability to understand romantic-type situations before now, so we figured it was a sure thing. I'm out three galleons too, and that bloody plonker Neville Longbottom is richer. Not like he needs it."

The twin brothers moved off, discussing the bets they had placed, and Ron was left by himself to ponder what had just happened.

"They're right, you know," came a soft voice from beside him.

Ron jumped a little, startled, and turned to see who was talking. At seeing one of his Gryffindor school-mates, Lavender Brown, he started to turn red. "How much did you hear?" he asked, hoping that she hadn't been a witness to the whole humiliating affair.

"Oh, not much," the pretty blond replied. "Just enough to see that your brothers really do love Ginny." She smirked slightly and added, "and to be impressed at how much you love her too." She looked down shyly for a second, then quickly stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. "I liked seeing that, Ron." And with that, she turned and ran off into the crowd.

Ron just stood there, with a look on his face that wouldn't have been out of place on someone who'd just been told that Muggles had actually walked on the Moon. Slowly he raised his hand to his cheek, and touched the spot where Lavender had kissed him. He'd have to think about this new development, but didn't think it would be too strenuous. One thing was for sure—he had a lot to tell Dean and Seamus that evening.

oooooooooo

"Welcome to Hogwarts' Great Hall," Headmistress McGonagall said as the Beauxbatons students made themselves comfortable at the Ravenclaw table. "Here is where you'll be eating your meals. The table you're sitting at belongs to Ravenclaw House, and normally the students are encouraged to eat with their Housemates. This is not a hard and fast rule, though, so feel free to sit wherever you choose."

Harry looked down at the girl nestled into his side and smiled. "Where do you usually sit?" he asked, quietly.

She grinned back up at him and giggled quietly. "Well, you're in luck—I'm in Ravenclaw House, so we don't even need to worry about crossing the ever-important House boundaries."

Harry chuckled softly. "That's perfect! But then, I think you're perfect in every way, so I don't know why I'd be surprised. . ."

She blushed again, but held his eyes. Reaching out her hand, she stroked him gently on the cheek. He leaned toward her, almost unable to resist the pull of her lips, but then--

"Ahem!" came the voice of Headmistress McGonagall again. Harry jerked up in surprise, blushing bright red. Thankfully, it didn't look as if the couple were being singled out, as the whole contingent of Beauxbatons students had started whispering to each other.

When quiet reigned once again, the stern professor continued. "You are all welcome to visit any classes in the castle that you want to, as long as you have the permission of your faculty and the professor of the class you wish to visit." A very, very small grin showed on one corner of her mouth, more a slight lifting of the lips rather than anything obvious, as she continued. "And the Hogwarts students--" her eyes glanced quickly at the redhead seated by Harry, "--have my permission to visit classes with you. I'm sure there will be some very beneficial inter-school mingling. . ."

Fleur, who was sitting on Harry's other side, covered up a laugh with a quick cough, but not before Harry heard it. He poked her in the side, and hissed, "Shut up, sister dearest, or I'll leave you alone at meals."

Fleur subsided, but couldn't quite hide the grin on her face. Tex and Josette, who were seated across the table from Harry, just smiled at their friend and his new. . . girlfriend.

Professor McGonagall was speaking again, explaining the setup of the Quidditch tournament, but the Beauxbatons students had already heard, and memorized, all the information, so Harry took advantage of the opportunity to lean over to his Mate.

"I'm Harry Delacour," he whispered softly into the girl's ear.

For a moment the red-head was utterly still, and her eyelids drifted closed. But then she shook herself a bit, turned towards Harry slightly, and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Harry. My name is Ginevra Weasley."

Harry grinned back at her, and, affecting a very pompous tone and bearing, took her small, slender, warm hand in his. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ginevra."

Miss Weasley made a small moue of protest at hearing her name in that tone. Harry quickly noticed, and asked, "What's the matter, Gin--"

"That!" she interrupted. "Ginevra really is my name, but I've never liked it. I prefer to be called Ginny, if you don't mind." She seemed somewhat worried that he'd take that amiss, but he just smiled.

"Ginny. . . I like that too. Although, I think Ginevra is a beautiful name—it suits you perfectly." He thought for a bit. "Would you mind, terribly, if I occasionally called you Ginevra?"

If it had been anyone else, Ginny would have reached for her wand and taught him about impertinence and the suitable reward for such. But in Harry's mouth, with its light French accent, _Ginevra_ sounded almost like music. She couldn't help the small sigh that came out as she thought of the idea of Harry having a special name for her.

"Um, if you, um, don't want me to, I won't," Harry said, obviously taking her lack of response for a refusal.

"Oh, no! That's fine. Just please don't call me that in front of my brothers, okay? I'd never hear the end of it."

"Thank you, Ginevra," he whispered, enjoying watching her shiver slightly at his voice.

Just then, loud applause broke into their private little world, and they started clapping too, anxious to not be caught out in their obliviousness.

It seemed as though the formal speeches were over, as the students started chattering away to each other and Headmistress McGonagall left the front of the room to, presumably, head out to await the students from Durmstrang.

Now that they had the opportunity, Harry wanted to get to know the beautiful red-head seated next to him. Granted, there were some things he already knew deeply. Like the fact that she tasted like a mixture of strawberries, chocolate, and cinnamon. And that she was the perfect height to tuck her head under his chin. And that her hand was the perfect size to fit inside his. And the fact that he never, ever, wanted to be parted from her again.

But then, something she had said struck him, and he blanched. He affected a would-be nonchalant pose, and turned to her. "So," he said, "you mentioned brothers. How many, exactly, do you have?"


	11. Chapter 11, The First Evening

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 11, **The First Evening**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, who are as talented as they are beautiful.

oooooooooo

Hermione wasn't used to feeling frustrated when it came to her best friend. She and Ginny had always shared everything, and now, when she so desperately wanted to talk to her, she couldn't find her anywhere.

She huffed a bit in irritation, making Neville smile. They, along with Luna, were walking down to dinner together, as usual, although the absence of the fourth member of the Fearsome Foursome was decidedly unusual.

"Okay, Hermione, what is it that's really bothering you about Ginny?" Neville finally asked.

His calm voice worked to soothe Hermione's irritation, and she took a deep breath as she thought about how to answer it. It wasn't really an easy question to answer, and Hermione said as much. "I'm not sure, really. I mean, she certainly has the right to hang out with whomever she wants. And I would never begrudge her finding someone whom she so obviously likes, it's just that. . ." And here she stalled.

"You're jealous," Luna interjected, with a slight tinge of amusement in her voice. "It's only to be expected. Mothers always feel that way when their children start to find their place in the world." The blond girl turned away from Hermione at that moment, staring up at the carving over the doorway they were passing, and mumbling faintly about ancient Druidic crop rituals.

Hermione was rather taken aback. "I most certainly am _not_ jealous!" she just about shouted.

Neville cocked an eyebrow at her as they turned the corner towards the main staircase. "Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Hermione blushed scarlet and focused on the one thing she knew for certain in this unfamiliar situation. "That's actually a misquote. The line is really _The lady doth protest too much, methinks_."

Neville grinned at her. "I know, Hermione. I know Shakespeare just as well as you do-he's always been a passion of mine."

"You read Muggle plays?" Hermione didn't know how they'd gotten through more than three years of fancy- um, friendship without her knowing of this apparent hobby of Neville's.

"Oh, Shakespeare wasn't a Muggle-how else can you explain the huge influence he's had on English literature over the years? There's a little bit of magic inside every one of his plays that makes it really speak to the audience's mind. And, just between you and me, it's easier to understand if you know he was magical."

"What-what are you talking about?" Hermione was truly puzzled-she had studied all of the Bard's plays in-depth, and thought she knew everything there was to know.

"Well, take, for example, the part in _Romeo and Juliet_, where Juliet says _be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet_. In those days, the family Capulet were well-known leaders of the light, similar to Longbottoms, now. Or Weasleys. Or perhaps Grangers, in the future. Montague, on the other hand, were neutral-they were grey, as you might say. Much like the Greengrasses are now. So, at first glance, it looks as if Juliet were making the statement that she'd throw her lot in with the Montagues if Romeo would but be her love. But knowing how the Magical world was at the time, she was really saying that if Romeo were willing to swear to love her, and by extension, the light, she'd marry him and take his name upon her."

Hermione was stunned. "So, it wasn't just about two stupid teenagers who suffered from poor communication?"

"Right. Well, it was partly that, but mostly it was meant to show the perils of trying to sit on the fence. At the end, both the Montagues and the Capulets lost their heirs because of the political divisions between the light and the neutrals. The Montagues ended up declaring for the light, alongside the Capulets, and that gave the light side enough power to overthrow the Dark Lords Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."

Hermione turned to look at Neville so quickly at hearing the last two names that she almost pulled a muscle. But before she could comment, Luna spoke up.

"I personally think that _The Merchant of Venice _is the best of his plays. Where else can you read about blood vows and how to get out of them?"

Hermione turned to the younger girl, but was kept from the obvious question by the threesome's arrival in the Great Hall.

"And there's Ginny," Neville said, softly, as they entered the room.

oooooooooo

The afternoon had fairly flown by for Ginny and Harry. They had left the Great Hall after the welcoming speech by Headmistress McGonagall, and . . . and she really couldn't pinpoint what exactly they had done. All she knew was that there was walking involved, and occasionally stairs. What stood out in her mind, eclipsing all such mundane details as locations and passages, were the feelings she had and the conversation they shared.

"You have _six older brothers?_" he questioned, again.

"Yes, Harry, six. But only three of them are at school this year, so you don't have to worry about the older three."

They turned left. "So, how much pain am I going to be in?"

"Well, let's see. Fred and George are twins, and they like to cause trouble wherever they are. They're kind of like the unofficial head mischief-makers of the school. So, as long as you can take a prank, they'll accept you. Oh! And if you manage to prank them back, they'll love you."

"Pranksters, eh?" Harry commented, as they turned around at a dead end. "I'll have to see if we can cook something up. Tex and Josette-you met them at the table, right?-well, they are probably smarter than I am, and I think they'd like to be in on anything we do."

"What about that blonde that you were walking with?" Ginny was slightly nervous about that question.

"Who, Fleur?" Harry asked. "She might-although she's three years older than I am, so she might decide to be all _mature_ and all. But I bet we could get her help, if we needed it."

"So, I guess you two are rather close. . ."

"Of course," Harry said, taken aback a bit. "She's always been good to me, and taken care of me. Although, there was that one time she accidentally locked me in the bathroom."

Ginny gasped. She'd never thought he'd have had the opportunity to be that intimate with someone. He wasn't too much older than Ginny was, herself. "She locked you in the bathroom?" she questioned, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yeah, she was mad at me, for some reason, and her accidental magic locked the door. I was so scared! I thought I'd made them decide to get rid of me." Harry shuddered a little as he recalled the desolation of that moment.

"Wait," Ginny said, shaking her head in confusion. "Stop a minute."

Harry obediently stopped, and they stood there, half-way down a set of stairs that was in the middle of changing from being a quick and easy route to the third floor into a rather tortuous and winding way to get to the Owlery.

"I think I'm confused. So, Fleur accidentally locked you in the bathroom, right?"

Harry nodded.

"And you were scared because you thought they were going to throw you out?"

Harry nodded again.

"Why would your girlfriend's family throw you out if she was the one that locked the door?"

Harry stared at her. "What girlfriend?" he finally asked as they started wandering again.

Ginny took the opportunity to marshal her thoughts and guide their path through a secret door that opened on a staircase that led them down towards the Hospital Wing.

"Fleur-you know, the beautiful blond girl that made us all embarrassed at how plain we were? The one you were walking with, and sat next to. The one all the guys were drooling over? I mean, you're so close, and all. I just figured she was an old girlfriend of yours."

Harry couldn't seem to make his mouth work. Ginny took this as her cue to exit the stairwell and head them away from the Staff Quarters. "I figured she wasn't your current girlfriend-she didn't seem too bothered that you were kissing me. But what other explanation is there?"

Harry stared some more, but finally made his mouth work. "You thought Fleur was my girlfriend? Ewwww! That's just, just wrong! Oh no! No no no no no no no no! Fleur's my big sister. Yuck!" And Harry just about turned green at the idea of . . . well, anything more than a sisterly hug and a punch on the arm.

Ginny's face showed some slight embarrassment, but mostly relief. She was so happy that she didn't have competition that she stopped, pulled Harry close, and kissed him as hard as she could. Harry took a moment to comprehend what was going on, another moment to banish the thought of someone actually _kissing_ Fleur, and then started kissing her back.

Eventually, the tittering and jostling of the crowd brought them back to themselves, and they broke the kiss, looking around in confusion, then simultaneously flushing a bright red as they realized that their wanderings had brought them to, and their impromptu snog session had happened in, the Entrance Hall, and it was obviously time for dinner. The pair gasped in mortification, then turned and, with bowed heads and hurried steps, rushed to Ginny's normal place at the Ravenclaw table, there to wait until either the crowd forgot about the scene, or, more likely, the ground opened up and sucked them down into its depths.

oooooooooo

Hermione, seeing that her wayward friend was, indeed, already seated at the table, unconsciously grabbed Neville's hand in her left hand, Luna's in her right, and fairly dragged the other two as she rushed toward the redhead, who, hearing of her friends' approach, turned around to see what was happening.

"Ginny! Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you! You just let some strange guy from Beauxbatons snog you in front of everyone, then you're gone for half the day-he could have been after you for some nefarious purpose-and you didn't even leave a note? I even tried asking Professor Flitwick, and all he said was _Don't worry, the Headmistress has assured me that he's quite a fine young man_. Can you believe that? So I went to Professor McGonagall and asked her, and she just said _Don't concern yourself, Miss Granger, Madame Maxime has told me of his situation, and there's no need to worry!_ So I tried to go talk to Madame Maxime, but I couldn't find her, and I didn't know what to do! I mean, after what happened second year, you think I'm just going to leave you alone with some stranger?"

It was, at this point, that three things happened. First, Harry tapped Hermione on the shoulder to indicate that, yes, he was sitting right there, and that she probably shouldn't be talking about him like that. Second, Michael Corner, who had witnessed the impromptu snog in the Entrance Hall, decided to make his affections known. And third, Ginny saw that Hermione was still holding Neville's hand.

Hermione blanched and slowly turned around to see Harry looking straight at her, with a somewhat disapproving look in his eyes. In spite of his obvious displeasure, and against all of her normal composure, she giggled slightly. Harry really was one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen, and she just couldn't help but blush. Stammering out an apology, she ducked her head, but then looked quickly back up at the black-haired boy, hoping that he wouldn't be too upset. Thankfully, he was smirking at her, rather than glaring. But something caught his attention at that moment, and Hermione was spared any further embarrassment.

"Hey, Ginny!" Michael said, inching closer to the red-haired girl. "Um, I was wondering-could I get one of those kisses?"

Ginny, who had been looking, in turns, at Hermione's and Neville's interlocked hands, and Hermione's blushing face, didn't really hear Michael's question. She blinked and turned toward him, intending to ask him to repeat what he'd said.

Unfortunately, Michael took her slight movement towards him to be a favorable response, and moved in for the (figurative) kill.

Michael had been raised by his mother, mostly, and fed a steady diet of romance novels and wizarding soap operas. So, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that when you went to kiss your One True Love, you closed your eyes. Feeling rather sure of himself, and the projected trajectories of both his and Ginny's faces, he closed his eyes, trusting in the Fates that everything would work out correctly. He was abysmally wrong.

Ginny, upon completing her turn to ask Michael what he had said, was shocked to discover what she first assumed were the particularly vile sucking parts of the Boggling Scumsucker plant, which they'd studied earlier that year in Herbology. She screamed and flailed wildly, trying to push herself far enough away from the (presumably) escaped carnivorous plant to draw her wand and stun it (which was, of course, the recommended method for keeping them docile). In her flailing, she managed to slide off the bench, underneath the table. As Harry was sitting next to her, very closely, one of her flailing hands knocked his head down towards the table, where it connected with a pathetic, furry _thud_. As Ginny completed her mad cascade under the table, one of her legs kicked up high enough, in the absolutely worst (if you were Michael) and best (if you were a spectator) direction, and impacted the importunate man right in an area that most people delicately referred to as the "family jewels".

The love-struck, and very unlucky, boy folded noiselessly to the floor, but not without incident, as his trajectory was such that he fell against Neville, who was calmly contemplating how extraordinarily _nice_ it was to be holding Hermione's hand, and who most certainly _wasn't _expecting any sort of physical interaction-at least, not with Michael Corner. Taken off-guard as he was, he shifted quickly, trying to keep his footing. But the aforementioned young lady, whose hand he was holding, was in precisely the place that Neville was trying to be, and the two of them fell, flailing also, to the ground, Neville on top in what could be construed as a _very_ compromising position.

If a silence could be said to be loud, this was the type of silence that reigned at that moment. Of course, such silences do not last, and this one was broken by what had to be almost the entire population of Hogwarts, with the addition of most of the staff, and also including the selected Quidditch players from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang (42 in all, minus Harry), breaking out into hysterics at what they had just witnessed. Headmistress McGonagall herself had to sit down and stare rather fixedly at her plate in an attempt to maintain her stern countenance, and mostly succeeded, although her lips twitched rather impressively.

Luna, who had managed to secure the best seat in the house for the comedy act, and who, by dint of a rather strategic withdrawal from Hermione's grasp earlier, managed to stay on her feet, just smiled, and said, under her breath, "I _knew_ this was gonna be a great year."

oooooooooo

The evening meal was rather impressive, as far as meals go. Since there were 42 new students visiting, the chatter was rather louder than normal. This chatter was occasionally interrupted by fits of giggles as people discussed the rather exciting happenings at the Ravenclaw table.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron Weasley was devouring his dinner. That was to be expected. What wasn't to be expected was that Lavender Brown had appropriated the seat at Ron's right side, forcing Seamus to move down a seat. Seamus always thought it was good fun to have a pretty girl to eat with, but she was concentrating her attention on Ron, so Seamus' normal wit was finding deaf ears.

Ron didn't know what to do. Of course he'd noticed Lavender before, who hadn't? She and Parvati were the only two Gryffindor girls in his year, so they were naturally at least passing acquaintances. But over the past year or so, both of the girls had turned into very pretty young women. Lavender was a blond, bubbly, cheerful girl, with a wholesome complexion and sunny disposition. Parvati was more exotic, with dusky toffee-colored skin, mysterious eyes, and a penchant for wearing clothes from her native country, whenever she could get away with it. But now, Lavender's extra attention was slightly overwhelming, especially to someone who had just recently woken up to the idea that there was a reason the sexes were different. Ron had really liked Lavender's kiss on the cheek, and he, Dean, and Seamus had discussed it quite a bit. But nothing they had talked about had shown Ron what to do with the full force of Lavender's personality focused on him. So, instead, he concentrated on eating. Well, at least until the Headmistress arose and signaled for silence.

The noise died down, and everyone turned their attention to the Head Table.

"As this is the first time we've all been together, I'd like to welcome you again, one and all, to Hogwarts," Headmistress McGonagall started. "I trust you all have had an opportunity to sate at least the most pressing hunger, and won't mind my addressing you at this time."

There was a light chuckle, and a few of the Gryffindors looked at Ron, who was looking mournful at his again-full plate and wondering if he could just sneak another chicken leg while the Headmistress was talking. Lavender, showing no indication that she'd even seen his look, slowly reached over and took Ron's right hand in hers. The look on Ron's face was one of mixed sadness (for not being able to eat any more) and wonder, as the small, slim hand felt so nice in his. Those around him, who had happened to notice, smirked at this change.

"Blimey," whispered Dean to Seamus. "I guess now we know what it takes to get Ron's mind off of food."

"And to the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, who have traveled so far, we would like to extend our gratitude and appreciation."

She stepped back from the podium, and started to clap, which was the signal for the assembled students to applaud too.

After quiet had once again overtaken the Great Hall, the Headmistress said, "Thank you. Now, we all know what brings us together-"

She was interrupted by the Weasley twins standing and yelling, "Quidditch!" then looking around at all the other tables with twin expressions of betrayal.

Fred looked up at the Head Table. "I'm sorry, Headmistress, for interrupting. You see, we had _planned-"_ and his voice took on a rather vicious note, "-for a nice display of support, but it seems everyone else-" he glared rather fiercely at those members of the Hogwarts teams that weren't cowering behind their neighbors, "-decided that they'd rather stay silent."

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley, for that display of support, and the explanation," Headmistress McGonagall said, dryly. "Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"Um, no, Headmistress. We'll just be sitting down now, yeah?" And Fred and George calmly took their seat.

Harry noticed that Ginny was shaking. "Ginny," he whispered, leaning towards her. "Is something wrong?"

Ginny looked up into his (gorgeous, green) eyes and, with a very constricted voice, squeaked, "No!" Then quickly bowed her head again.

Harry was rather confused, but as he sat back up, he noticed that this Hermione person looked like she was giggling quietly to herself.

"Um, excuse me. Hermione, was it?"

The girl looked back over at him and nodded her head.

"Um, what's going on? And do you know what's wrong with Ginny?"

Hermione giggled a little more, then visibly shook herself and whispered back. "Those two are Ginny's twin brothers, Fred and George. She told me they were going to try something, but she didn't know what it was. And apparently, everyone else got together and decided to leave them high and dry tonight."

Harry smiled slightly. "Okay," he said slowly.

"No, you have to understand," Hermione whispered. "Those two are the resident pranksters—they've gotten _everyone_ at one time or another. And to see them be on the receiving end. . . well, it's poetic justice at its best!"

Ginny frantically nodded her agreement, but still couldn't talk. Harry smiled again, more fully this time, and took another long look at two of his Mate's siblings. _Well,_ he thought to himself, _they don't look too scary. Although I suppose I should expect them to prank me some time. Maybe I can get them first. . ._

The Headmistress had continued her speech while this was going on, and Harry tuned back in to the discourse.

". . . will help us build bonds of friendship between the three preeminent schools of magic in Europe. To aid in this endeavour, I will make public something I've mentioned to some of you already.

"Any student who wishes may visit any of the classes from any of the schools, as long as you receive permission from the professor whose class you will be visiting, and the professor of the class you will be missing. Note, however, that although the respective Boards of Education for each school have set standards for each year, you might find yourself somewhat. . . out of step, shall we say, with regards to the current topic of class instruction."

Hermione, judging by her face, was in raptures. She leaned over to Ginny and whispered, "Just think of the opportunity! We'll be able to see how the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang classes are run, and perhaps they'll be learning different things. Oh! Maybe their textbooks are different!"

Ginny chuckled, then placed a hand over her friend's mouth. "Shush, Hermione. Yes, I think it'll be great-" she blushed a bit, but carried on, "-to see how the other students learn, but McGonagall's still talking."

The brown-haired girl grimaced, but stopped talking.

". . . can sit wherever they like. But if any of the staff find that there are problems with the choices that students make as to where to sit, the offending student will be restricted to their dormitories for mealtimes for a period of time consonant with the severity of the infraction. We will not behave like barbarians, is that understood?"

The whole Hall, including all the visiting students, mumbled, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Very well. Now, may we please have all the Durmstrang players stand?"

There was a great rumbling as the 21 students all got to their feet.

Someone started to clap, and all the rest of the students joined in. Mostly hidden by the noise of the applause, Ron's voice could be heard exclaiming, "They brought Krum! He's incredible! Did you see him when-"

His voice was shut off abruptly as Lavender leaned over and put her hand over his mouth. "Ronald!" she hissed, "That's not very polite of you."

Ron was shocked at the feel of her hand. His stomach did a tiny backflip, and he realized, at that moment, that perhaps there was merit in behaving with more decorum. At the very least, it might make Lavender happy, and a happy Lavender was something he greatly desired.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by hearing the Beauxbatons players rise to their feet. He halfheartedly joined in the applause for them. Truth be told, he was torn. The students from Beauxbatons-well, at least the females-okay, the blond girl was certainly beautiful, and he appreciated that, but there was also that black-haired git that had snogged Ginny in front of the entire school. Ron still wasn't too sure about him, but decided he would keep to the plan that Fred and George had given him.

oooooooooo

The excellent meal was finally finished, and it had come to that time that both Harry and Ginny were dreading.

Harry rose from the table first, and pulled Ginny up, gently, next to him. "Ginny, I've really enjoyed this time with you. May I meet you for breakfast?"

Ginny was surprised at the courtliness in his manner, but responded in like manner. "Why certainly, Harry. It would be my pleasure. Shall we say 7:30?"

Hermione, Neville, and Luna, along with Tex and Josette, were watching this little byplay with small smiles, happy for their respective friends, and entertained by the obviously formal manners being shown.

Harry took Ginny's hand, and they proceeded towards the doors. "That will be a most wondrous time, then. I look forward to it."

Courtly manners notwithstanding, as soon as they were far enough away from the doors into the Great Hall, Ginny pulled Harry into a shadowed alcove and wrapped her arms around his neck. Eschewing conversation, she raised herself on her toes and pulled his head down to meet hers. Their kiss, which started out gently, quickly became very intimate. Neither one of them had had occasion to kiss anyone else before this most portentous of days, but they didn't find their lack of practice to be a hindrance. Lips caressed lips, and arms wrapped snugly around bodies as the two teenagers tried their best to become one.

Finally, Harry pulled back slightly, ending the kiss, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Ginevra, but I really must get going. Madame Maxime is rather strict about curfew."

Ginny frowned slightly. "Yeah, I had probably better go, too. But, I will see you tomorrow morning, right? You're not some wonderful dream that I'm having that I'll wake up from, are you?"

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No, ma cherie, it is most likely I who is dreaming. Who would have thought I'd find you here?"

After one last kiss, Harry slowly backed away and turned to head out the doors to the Beauxbatons carriage. Ginny took a moment to run her fingers through her hair to try to tame it and then headed back to the Ravenclaw common room.

oooooooooo

Hermione and Luna were waiting on Ginny's bed when she arrived there, and dragged her in with them. Hermione sealed the curtains closed around the four-poster and cast a privacy charm.

"Okay, Ginny, spill!" Luna said, surprising Ginny with her direct manner of speaking-not one they were used to.

"What?" Ginny asked, still a little breathless from the girls' abduction.

"Come on, Ginny! We want to know about your guy! Harry, was that his name?" Hermione asked, in her normal rapid-fire pace. Luna nodded quickly, agreeing with the request.

"Fine," Ginny acquiesced. "What all do you want to know?"

"Well, did you catch his full name? Oh, and have you seen him before? I mean, he just came right over to you and snogged you. And he said he'd been looking for you-did you already know him?"

"I think," Luna said, "that their spirits already knew each other, and had been calling to each other through the ether."

Hermione paused a moment to look at Luna, but the blonde girl just sat placidly, chewing on one strand of hair.

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment, and smiled. "Luna," she said, "I think you might be on to something."

Hermione looked quickly at Ginny. "You can't mean that, Ginny. Spirits can't just _know_ each other! I haven't read anything that indicates our spirits have any sort of existence before we're born." She paused for a second. "Well, actually, I have heard some religious people talking about that, but wouldn't the Wizarding world know about it? Nothing in _Modern Magical Mysteries of Meta-Existence_ mentions anything about previous lives. Although Weberly states, in _A Critical Compendium of Classical Constructs,_ that-"

"Hermione!" Ginny interrupted. "Stop!"

The bushy-haired brunette closed her mouth and blushed slightly. All three were well aware of Hermione's tendency to get caught up in exciting tangents, and Hermione had (mostly) come to grips with Ginny and Luna occasionally having to call her back to the subject at hand.

Ginny, satisfied that Hermione had been successfully reined in, continued. "Luna, I don't know about spirits knowing each other. But when he stopped in front of me, and I looked up at him, there was this. . . _pull_, I guess. It was like something had cast a light _Accio_ charm at me-"

"Like a magnet?" Hermione interjected.

"What's a magnet?" Ginny asked, while Luna took the opportunity to extend one leg and practice her hamstring stretches.

Hermione stared at the red-head. Sometimes she forgot how insular the Wizarding world was. How could they not understand magnetics? "Never mind," she finally said, making a mental note to send for a copy of _Physics for Dummies_ and forcibly teach her friends about how the world really worked.

Ginny looked at her quizzically, but started talking again. "Well, anyway, he stopped in front of me and said _I've been looking for you_ and he looked so. . . so _happy_, you see-that he'd found me, you know? And the funny thing was, I felt the same way. It's kind of like I feel when I come back to Hogwarts, and when we see our dorms again. But stronger. Like I'm, I don't know, coming home. And I can close my eyes and see us together for the rest of our lives. And that doesn't scare me, and that scares me."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "What? It doesn't scare you, and it scares you?"

"No, Hermione," Luna said. "_It _doesn't scare her-the fact that it doesn't scare her is what scares her."

Ginny nodded. "Right! I mean, you all know how I've never felt the need to go chasing after any guy, right?" Her two friends nodded-it was well-known that many boys had tried their hardest to catch her eye, and all had failed. "And I just figured I was, I don't know, slow to develop or something."

Hermione snorted at this. Ginny had certainly not been slow to develop. In fact, there were not a few girls their year, and a year older, that had held secret feelings of jealousy towards the red-head, for having blossomed so much earlier than they. It wasn't that Ginny was excessively curvy-she had always been slim-but that she had become so exceptionally beautiful so young. In the ages when girls were either straight as a stick, or slowly (and awkwardly) becoming pretty, Ginny Weasley had had a rather unearthly attractiveness. She had gone from being young and cute, to being not-so-young and gorgeous, without the intervening gawky stage.

Ginny frowned at Hermione, but continued. "But when he put his arms around me, I felt like there was a bubble inside me, that grew and grew and then burst, and all I could feel was this warmth where he was touching me, and all I wanted to do was kiss him, and hold him, and never let go." She stopped for a moment, as if reliving something, then continued on. "I always thought that kissing would be kind of . . . I don't know-slippery, or uncomfortable. I mean, how do you know where your nose goes? But when Harry kissed me, it was just. . . perfect." She fell silent again, while Hermione and Luna sat, enraptured.

Eventually Luna broke the silence. "So, when are you going to marry him?"

Hermione gasped at the audacity of the blonde girl, although she really should have expected it. Luna had never felt the need to beat around the bush about anything-why should Ginny's previously-nonexistent love life be any different? But Ginny had been known to get rather annoyed with people prying into her affairs, and Hermione didn't want to have their little discussion interrupted prematurely. She shouldn't have worried.

Ginny shook her head a bit. "What was that, Luna?"

"I asked you when you were going to get married," Luna answered matter-of-factly.

Ginny blushed, and looked down. "Um, I don't know-I mean, maybe we won't-"

Luna snorted. "Ginny, do you really believe that you're not going to end up married to Harry?"

Ginny blushed again, harder this time, and just shook her head. Softly, she said, "No. I can't imagine marrying anyone else." She looked up at her friends. "I really can't, you know. I mean, I'm only fourteen, for Merlin's sake! I shouldn't be already planning a wedding to someone I've only known for a day! I should be playing the field, getting to know other boys, doing comparison shopping, for crying out loud. Bill's dated, I don't know, maybe 40 different girls that I know of! And he's still happily looking around. Aren't I. . . aren't I supposed to do the same thing?"

Hermione sat back at the vehemence of Ginny's argument. "Ginny," she said, hesitantly. "Ginny, if you can't see yourself marrying anyone else, then why is it a problem? I mean, do you really want to spend the next however many years of your life going out with a bunch of different boys, trying to find someone better for you than Harry? I think you're incredibly lucky to have found your man-well, boy, I guess-already! My mum has said quite often that she was so relieved to have found Dad as early as she did, so she could stop looking. Don't you see? You don't have to worry anymore about boys! And weren't you complaining, on the train, about the stupid boys that kept bothering you? Now you know who you want! And, by all appearances, he wants you back. Grab on with both hands, girl, and don't let go!"

Luna had watched this outburst with her normal demeanor, chewing absently on yet another lock of hair, looking for all the world as if she were listening to a discussion on the relevance of marigolds to the Wizarding currency market of Japan. But when Hermione sat back, flushed from her outburst, she reached out a hand and patted Hermione's. "Don't worry, Hermione. I think you and Neville are just about to that stage."

Hermione and Ginny both turned to stare at the blonde, who looked back placidly.

Hermione sputtered a bit. "But. . . but. . . but that's completely beside the point. I mean, it's not like Neville even likes me back-" horrified at what she had just admitted to, she plastered her hands over her eyes and flopped backward onto the bed.

Ginny stared at her, then looked back at Luna, then burst into loud laughter.

Luna just smiled calmly, and switched legs for her stretching.

Ginny finally stopped laughing, and leaned back against the headboard. She thought for awhile, while Luna switched from stretching to, apparently, counting the tassels on the bed-hangings, and Hermione quietly sat back up.

"You're right," Ginny finally said. "This is a good thing. Harry is the guy for me, and I'm not going to waste time bemoaning the fact that I don't get to date around. It's not like I've ever wanted to anyway, right?" Hermione and Luna both nodded obediently. Ginny smiled, then her smile turned mischievous. "And did you notice Ron's face when he saw us together? I think it's going to be quite fun to see how upset we can make him."

Hermione giggled at that-she didn't particularly care for Ron that much. He always talked about Quidditch-or chess-and Hermione just didn't get along with him. Thankfully they didn't run into each other that much, even when she had stayed with Ginny during their summer holidays. "And did you see how closely he was sitting to Lavender Brown?" she asked her friends. "I think we just might be able to tease him about more than your love affair with Harry."

Ginny chuckled at the thought, and their conversation devolved into a quick round-up of other couples that they had noticed that day. Eventually they took down the privacy charms and prepared for bed. Ginny was greatly anticipating seeing Harry again the next morning, Hermione was greatly anticipating visiting classes from the other schools, and Luna was greatly anticipating the opportunity to inspect the wheels of the Beauxbatons carriage-after all, there might be Exotic Dagnabbles, if they'd come from France.


	12. Chapter 12, The Next Day

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 12, **The**** Next ****Day**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, without whom the sun wouldn't shine, the stars wouldn't glitter, and this would be much more incomprehensible.

oooooooooo

Harry was on his way down to the Beauxbatons carriage when his sister fell in beside him. He smiled at her, happy with his life, and happy to have such a wonderful family. "Hey, Fleur, how are you?" he asked, as they walked down the grassy slope.

"I'm doing very well, brother of mine. And I'm pretty sure I don't need to ask you how you're doing, right?"

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. For the rest of the trip he waxed poetic about the new girl in his life. Fleur just listened and smiled. It was obvious that Harry was a Veela who'd found his Mate, and she couldn't be happier for him. It hadn't been the same for her, so she couldn't be sure exactly how Harry felt, but that didn't matter.

". . . and we're meeting for breakfast tomorrow morning." Harry stopped and looked at his sister. There was something uncharacteristically solemn about him now. "Fleur?" he asked, and Fleur had to rein herself in tightly at the lonely-little-boy tone. "Do you think. . . do you think she's the one for me?"

Fleur threw her arms around her brother. What had seemed so incredibly obvious to her, and to everyone else around them, and had turned Harry into some sort of gallant hero from a children's adventure story, still had the power to make Harry doubt himself. Fleur again cursed the people with whom Harry had lived before her parents had found him, and hugged him even tighter.

"Oh, Harry, my wonderful brother. She is absolutely perfect for you. You fit together as well as Maman and Papa do, and you know their story." Harry nodded against Fleur's shoulder, but didn't let go of her. "She was so thrilled to see you, Harry. Her face seemed as though the sun were bursting through it, she was so happy. And I don't think I've ever seen you so blissful as you were with her today."

Harry smiled, and nodded again. "Yeah, she's just perfect." But then his voice saddened again. "But, maybe I'll-"

Fleur cut him off. "You'll do nothing to drive her away, Harry. I know you, remember? And we've talked before about the _tres__stupide__et__incroyablement__horrible_ Dursleys. They were NOT good people, Harry, and what they did to you was inexcusable. Real people, people with hearts, and brains, and love in their lives, those are the type of people that really matter. And the Dursleys do not matter at all. You are not a freak, and you are not worthless. You hear me?" and she looked at him so fiercely that he was a little worried.

But that worry was instantly subsumed by a wash of love, as he held his sister tightly, and whispered thank yous in her ear. He didn't have these bouts of insecurity often, but when he did, Fleur and his mother and father knew what he needed to hear.

"Thank you, big sister. I love you," he said as he backed up from the blond girl.

"Now, are you going to worry anymore about whether a beautiful girl who is obviously your Mate loves you back?" Fleur asked, archly.

"Loves me back?" Harry asked. "Yeah, I guess I do love her."

Fleur rolled her eyes at the utter cluelessness of the male of the species, and slapped him gently on the arm. "Of course you do, you great prat. And she loves you back, even if she might not have said it yet." Taking his arm and gently pulling him along, they continued their walk back to the carriage.

As Harry left Fleur at the door, he turned back to her one last time. "Fleur? Um, would you sit with us in the morning? It's just, well, maybe it'll be awkward, and if you're there to talk to also, it wouldn't be as bad."

"Of course, _mon__frere_, I would like nothing more than to sit with my brother and his future wife. After all, maybe she has a brother for me to go out with, no?"

Harry laughed at that, gave her another hug, and went off to his own room.

Tex was waiting in their shared room. He'd obviously gotten back to the carriage sooner, although Harry seemed to recall that he and Josette had left the feast together. Part of Harry wondered why he had noticed that particular fact, but filed it away for further consideration later.

"So, it looks like the famously unromantic Harry has found himself a girl. . ." Tex's tone was rather light, as if he were just commenting on the weather, but Harry blushed spectacularly anyway.

"Yeah," he mumbled, and made to grab his toothbrush, perhaps hoping to skive off to the bathroom before too much interrogating happened.

"No you don't, Harry Delacour! You are not going to run away from this!"

Harry grabbed and ran, but Tex was too quick with his wand, casting a _colloportus_ at the door before Harry could make it out of the room.

Harry managed to stop his headlong flight before any serious injury occurred, and slumped dejectedly to the ground. "Fine, Tex. What do you want to know?"

Tex grinned at his friend, and said, "Not so fast-I think there's someone else that has the right to be in on this conversation." He walked over to their wardrobe, and knocked gently on it.

To Harry's surprise, the door swung open, and out stepped Josette. "Surprise!" she said, as she walked over and sat on the bed.

Harry sat there on the floor, staring up at her, mouth gaping in amazement. "But. . . what? You. . . "

Tex burst out laughing at the unfamiliar sight of the normally-unflappable Harry Delacour sitting stunned on the floor. Finally taking pity, he helped Harry to his feet and guided him to a chair. "Josette and I were talking after dinner-" if Harry had been any less dumbfounded by the happenings that evening he would have noticed a delicate blush on Josette's face-Tex had made sure to be looking down when he said that incriminating line, "-and we decided we wanted to find out what was happening. So, she cast a charm on your robes that would alert us when you came in the carriage. It was easy to stash her in the wardrobe-"

Josette interrupted here. "Yes, our only major concern-well, _my_ major concern was that you'd decide to change clothes before we could get you trapped. There are some things I just really don't want to know about you, Harry."

Tex chuckled, and Harry finally did too, appreciating the humor in the situation. "Okay," Harry said. "What do you want to know?"

Tex and Josette looked at each other quickly, and then started plying Harry with all the questions they could think of. The problem, of course, was that Harry would hear a question, and start to answer it, but then get caught up in the memories, and the feelings that they evoked, and his answer would trail off into nothing, until Tex would nudge him, or Josette would snap her fingers under his nose.

After an hour, about the only information that they had learned about the redhead who, evidently, would be joining their little group of friends, was that her name was Ginny, she was Harry's age, and she had six older brothers. Oh, and that Harry was madly, head-over-heels, 'til-death-do-you-part in love with her.

Eventually they let Harry head down to take a shower, or brush his teeth, or whatever he had mumbled as he left, and the two of them were left alone in the bedroom. Josette smiled up at Tex, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and bid him a good-night as well, before heading off to the girls' rooms.

When Harry came back, Tex was still sitting in the same place, position mostly unchanged, except for his hand, which was now resting softly against his cheek, in the exact spot where Josette had kissed him. Harry tried to find out what had happened while he'd been out, but no answer, aside from a silly grin, was forthcoming, so he just went to bed, hoping to dream about the beautiful girl who'd come into his life so unexpectedly.

oooooooooo

At precisely 7:30 the next morning, Harry was waiting in the Entrance Hall. Fleur was with them, looking, as always, as if she'd spent hours in a beauty salon. Also there were Tex and Josette, who were both looking a little groggy, as if they'd both sat up for awhile after lights-out, thinking about something.

The female contingent of the Fearsome Foursome came down the marble staircase at exactly 7:32-Harry knew this because he had been checking his watch about every 13 seconds. But it was worth the wait. Ginny had taken an extra little bit of time that morning to make sure she looked good. This normally wasn't a big thing, as she didn't particularly care about attracting the boys' attentions, but now that she had someone special waiting for her, she wanted to make an effort.

Apparently that extra effort was worth it, as Harry's eyes snapped to her as she came into view, and he didn't blink once as he watched her float down the stairs and over to him.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, then giggled a bit. Honestly, he looked as besotted as she felt. It was only through the iron self-control that she'd learned-to help herself not burn down the Burrow-that allowed her to act fairly normally upon seeing him this morning. Apparently he'd taken a little bit of extra time too-while it looked like nothing could really control his wind-swept hair, it was evident that he'd taken a shower and chosen his clothing with care.

Harry finally blinked, and regained his own self-control. "Good morning, Ginny," he said, then reached out and gently tugged her into his arms. "I've missed you," he whispered in her ear. "I dreamt about you all night." He let her go a bit so he could look into her eyes. "But my dreams were nothing compared to seeing you this morning."

She stared back in awe. Then she snickered. Then she let out a huge belly laugh. "Merlin!" she exclaimed, when she could finally speak. "That has got to be the cheesiest line I've ever heard!"

All the others, Harry's little group of three, and the other two Fearsome Foursome females, just stared. It was obvious they hadn't heard what Harry had said.

Ginny looked up at Harry, and then laughed some more. His face had a rather interesting mix of wry humor, embarrassment, and a little hurt. Ginny made a rather large effort, and quelled her hilarity. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't mean it was bad, or anything. But I've spent the last three years turning down guys who wanted to chat me up, and I've heard some pretty bad pickup lines. And then you say that absolutely wonderful one, but it struck me as funny." She bit her lip a bit. "Please don't be mad at me."

Harry looked down into her bright brown eyes, and found himself falling even more deeply in love. Pulling back a bit, he smiled at her, and shook his head. "How can I stay mad at you?"

Tex whispered to Josette, "Did you hear what Harry said?"

Josette leaned closer to Tex, causing a small shiver of delight to run up his arm as she brushed against his side. "No, should we ask them?"

Tex tilted his head to the side and looked closely at his best friend. "Yeah," he finally decided. "But we should probably ask Ginny. Oh, I know, I'll hold him back for a second, and you can ask her as we walk into breakfast."

Josette agreed, and the two of them started to slowly and subtly move the group towards the entrance to the Great Hall.

Fleur, who had been watching with amusement, grabbed Harry by the arm, and pulled him to a stop. "Harry," she said sternly. "What, exactly, did you say to Miss Weasley that made her laugh so hard?"

In the background Tex whispered to Josette, "Or we could just try the direct approach."

Josette's hastily covered guffaw drew Luna's attention, and she wandered over to them.

Harry looked at his sister with no little amount of nerves. "Oh, well, um. I didn't really-"

Ginny cut him off. "He said that his dreams were nothing like seeing me this morning," and started giggling again.

Hermione and Fleur looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and turned towards the Great Hall. Walking in together, Hermione whispered to Fleur, "I didn't think it was that funny. Honestly, if Nev-, um some boy were to tell me that, I think I'd probably throw myself on him."

Fleur looked at her apparent new friend. "Yes, well. I don't know that I've met anyone that I'd want to have tell me that, but I can imagine that it could be rather romantic." They walked a bit more before Fleur started up a conversation with the bushy-haired best friend of her future sister-in-law. They talked all the way to the table, and barely interrupted their discussion to eat their breakfasts. Although, Hermione did smile at Neville when he, taking advantage of the newly-relaxed rules for seating, came over and took the spot on Hermione's other side.

Harry's and Ginny's discussion had devolved into her regaling him with accounts of other boys asking her out, frequently interspersed with amusing tales of the girls who had tried, and manifestly failed, to capture Harry's interest while he was at school. And while he was out shopping. And while he was travelling on the train.

Luna had discovered a kindred spirit in Josette. The latter had never met someone as straight-forward in a roundabout way as Luna, and found the experience to be a wonderful breath of fresh air. Currently Luna was explaining the difference between the Exotic species of Dagnabbles (wildly colorful, three fewer feathers in the head crest, but an extra opposable toe on the left side) and the Tame species (mostly a dull brown color).

Josette admitted that she'd never heard of any type of Dagnabble before, but that she'd be very interested in helping look for one around the carriage that afternoon. She looked shyly up at Tex then, and suggested that maybe he'd be willing to join too. It was rather obvious that he'd be more than pleased with that occupation, and plans made, they were able to start their breakfast too.

Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron was eating. That wasn't really a surprise. As Dean had once commented, perhaps Ronald was an ancient Norwegian name that meant _he__who__eats__more__than__a__mammoth_. After he'd explained what a _mammoth_ was, he'd gotten quite a round of laughter. But today Ron's voracious appetite seemed to be under much better control. Lavender Brown had been waiting in the Gryffindor Common Room when Ron had come down, and, by the simple expedient of taking his hand, had secured for herself an escort for the morning.

Ron was even more confused. They hadn't really talked about, well, _themselves_, but it really and truly looked as if he had gotten himself a girlfriend. Or at the very least, someone who wouldn't mind being asked to be such.

And once they had gotten to the table, Lavender _hadn__'__t__let__go__of__his__hand_. This confused him more, because he had always eaten with both hands, hadn't he? But the feeling of her soft, warm hand in his was going a long way toward making him understand that there were, while not _more_ important things than eating, at least things that were pretty close.

Fred and George were seated slightly down the table from Ron and his. . . _friend__._ "Fred, old bean, I think we may have to take up a collection."

Fred looked a little more closely at their youngest brother, and nodded. "Pink?" he whispered in turn.

George thought for a bit. "A couple, but mixed in with some white and a few with that really light purple color. . . you know the one I'm thinking of. . ."

Fred smirked. "Oh, you mean _lavender_?" he replied, and George just grinned back at him.

oooooooooo

Ginny's first class of the day was History of Magic. Harry, on the contrary, had Potions. Neither of the two had managed to talk to their professors in order to secure permission to attend the other's classes, so they reluctantly parted ways after breakfast, but not after sharing another kiss or four, and promising to meet for lunch at precisely 11:30, although Harry figured she'd probably be two minutes fashionably late again.

Hermione and Neville caught up with Ginny on their way towards History. It took Hermione repeatedly calling Ginny's name to bring her back down to earth. "All right, Ginny, what have you and Harry decided?"

Ginny looked at her friend in confusion. "What? Oh, hi, Neville! How are you this morning?"

"Never mind that now," Hermione interrupted. "I want to know how you're going to arrange your schedule so you and Harry can be together in classes."

Neville gently put a hand over Hermione's mouth. "Hi, Ginny. I'm doing really well today. I've rather enjoyed getting to know the Beauxbatons students. Luna seems to have really found a good friend, and Hermione here was talking about things I've never even thought of with that Fleur girl."

"Really?" Ginny asked, curiously. "What were they talking about?"

Hermione's face had been getting redder and redder as the other two just seemed to ignore her, until finally she did something, and Neville jerked his hand away with an exclamation. "Hermione! That's just. . . what did you do?"

Hermione bestowed upon Neville a glare worthy of Headmistress McGonagall, and opened her mouth to yell. Ginny, taking her life into her own hands, took a chance and covered her mouth the same way Neville had.

Hermione tried to gasp in outrage, but found that a hand placed over one's mouth inhibits that kind of reaction, and the resulting dramatic sniff through her unblocked nostrils had a much less impressive effect. Ginny tilted Hermione's head down a bit, and looked her in the face.

"Hermione! You're being rather rude, don't you think?" Ginny said, while giving her patented piercing glare to the other girl. "Do you think you can be pleasant to us, and take turns in the conversation, and not spit out a bajillion questions right away?"

Hermione just stared back at the redhead. Ginny sighed, then placed her other hand on the back of Hermione's head. "This means 'yes'," she calmly instructed, tilting the head forward and backward. "And this means 'no'," she continued, shaking the head from side-to-side. "Now, which will it be?"

Neville watched patiently as Hermione thought for a bit. Her shoulders sagged a bit, and she nodded her head.

"Okay, then I'm going to let go of you, but you're not going to do anything uncivil like that again, right?" Ginny said, moving her hands away from Hermione's flushed face.

Hermione shook her head and said, "No. I'm sorry, I just wanted to know how things were with you and Harry. . ."

"We know, Hermione, and that's one of the things we love about you-your inquisitive nature. But sometimes you need to show a little more tact. Now, Ginny," Neville continued, "would you be willing to update us on how you and your boyfriend are today?"

Ginny blushed, and frowned at Neville, but sighed and started talking. "We're wonderful, I think. I mean, I thought maybe things would be awkward today, with everything that happened and all that, but it was just wonderful. Breakfast was great, and we decided to sit down together after lunch during our free period-isn't that great? We both have a break after lunch! Anyway, and compare schedules to see where we can visit each other's classes."

Hermione was just about hopping up and down trying to restrain her veritable slew of questions. Ginny smirked at her and said, "Yes, Hermione, you can sit with us too. After all, we do have most of the same classes." She turned to Neville. "Do you want to come, too?"

Neville hesitated. "Well, um, I don't know. I'm not sure I need to sit around and watch you two lovebirds. But if Hermione-I mean, if you two don't mind my coming, then maybe I will."

Ginny grinned at Neville's slip, but didn't say anything, and Hermione seemed to have missed it, as she started discussing what she thought the differences would be, and whether it wouldn't be a good idea to only miss a few classes, until they found out where the French students were in their lessons. This continued until they made it to their History class, where they took seats at the front, as normal.

They were really enjoying their current course of study: _The__Renaissance__and__Its__Influence__on__Wand__Movements__and__House__-__Elf__Usage_. Ginny had heard horror stories about the History of Magic class before she had come to the school. Some ghost had taught it, but had focused exclusively on Goblin rebellions. Fred had said that they routinely skived off class, taking turns so that the teacher was never quite sure who, or whether anyone, was absent any given day.

oooooooooo

Lunchtime came, and once again the Fearsome Foursome, and the Beauxbatons students, met in the Entrance Hall. This time, though it was Harry that was late, having miscalculated the amount of time necessary to change into a new shirt after their Magical Plants class.

But Ginny didn't mention it, and Harry didn't feel like bringing it up, and pretty soon the question was moot as she came into his arms and kissed him. As had happened every time before, the rest of the world faded into nothing as they held each other. In fact, the only thing that brought them back to themselves was Tex wrapping his arms around the pair and carrying them bodily into the Great Hall. So, accompanied by hoots of laughter, they made their way to the Ravenclaw table.

"Where's Fleur?" Hermione asked Harry, once they'd gotten settled.

"Oh, she had a free period this morning, so she and the other seventh-year students decided to go for a swim. It'll take her awhile to get presentable again, since she doesn't want to use her Allure to do so."

Neville leaned over to Ginny. "What does he mean _Allure_?" he whispered.

Ginny looked at Neville's puzzled face, then turned to her boyfriend. "Harry," she asked, "what do you mean by _Allure__?"_

Hermione's hand shot up, then she blushed as everyone stared at her. She slowly lowered her hand, and sheepishly said, "Um, I think I know what he's talking about." Harry nodded for her to go on, so she continued. "Well, Ginny, you talked about seeing the Veela at the World Cup, those girls that were dancing for the Bulgarian side, remember?"

Ginny nodded impatiently-of course she remembered! Didn't Ron almost throw himself out of the box? But she also remembered because the dancing mascots had awoken something inside her; something that felt familiar. And didn't she see one of them throw a fireball?

"Well, I did some reading about them. Fascinating history-especially their involvement in the French Revolution. But anyway, the Veela have a gift-"

Neville snorted. "That's for sure," he said in a rather loud whisper. He missed the hurt look that flashed across Hermione's face, but Ginny saw it quite plainly.

"That's not what I was referring to, Neville," Hermione continued. "Well, it kind of is, I guess. Anyway, they have a gift that allows them to control their looks-how they appear to others. When they fully turn on that gift, which they call the Allure, they can get just about any man to fall over himself to get her attention. But there's also a few sources that say they can use that gift to make themselves look better in smaller, I don't know, increments I guess. So if, for example, a Veela's hair was messy, she could make it look perfect with just a thought. Or if they had dirt on their nose, they could vanish it the same way. So, that would mean that Fleur is a Veela! Right, Harry?"

Harry chuckled a bit. "It took you long enough to figure it out, Hermione. You saw how all the boys stared at her yesterday."

"But you didn't, Harry," Neville interjected.

Harry snorted in disgust. "Eww, no! That's just. . . that's wrong, is what that is. She's my sister!"

"So you don't think she's pretty?" Luna asked in an innocent voice.

"Unh-uh, I'm not falling for that one. Yes, I do think she's pretty. It's just that I've also seen her with dirt on her nose, and mud on her pants, and all messy from playing Quidditch. So, the pretty that I know is a sisterly pretty. The pretty that all those other blokes know is the Veela pretty. I think I prefer my sister as my sister, thank you very much."

Fleur, who had been standing behind Harry ever since Luna's question, leaned down and kissed him on the head. "Thank you, my dear brother. And I don't think you're horribly ugly either."

Harry looked up in surprise, and smiled widely at his sister. "Hey, Fleur, I didn't know if you'd join us or not. Um, maybe if Neville scoots over a bit-"

Fleur interrupted her little brother. "No, Harry, that's okay. Neville, don't worry about moving. I was asked to sit with. . . .with. . . _je__ne__me__souviens__pas__de__son__nom__!_ Um, that really tall bloke over there." Fleur turned and pointed towards the Hufflepuff table. Everyone turned to look, then turned back to Neville.

"Oh, that's Cedric Diggory. He's one of the Seekers for Hogwarts-First Team, right Ginny?" Neville explained.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, he's first team. Second team is Cho Chang."

Harry took another look at the tall Hufflepuff boy. "Hey, is that. . . is that _glitter_ on his face?"

Fleur looked over again. "No, I think he got splashed with something in Potions, and that shiny patch is where the antidote is working."

"Oh, okay," Harry said. "Wow! He's really tall, isn't he?"

Neville smirked. "Nah, he's just decided to start wearing his hair up higher than before, it really does make him look taller, but it must take ages to get it to stay like that."

"Well, he asked me to come sit with him and his friends, so I'll just be over there, okay? Hermione, we'll have to meet later to talk about Finagle's Theory; do you have some time this afternoon?"

After Hermione and Fleur finished finalizing their schedules, and Fleur had gone off to the Hufflepuff table, the serious business of eating took over. Harry was finding it a little harder to eat now, since he refused to let go of Ginny's hand, but all in all, he considered it a fair trade.

Lunch finished, the group wandered out to the courtyard. It was a little too cold to do much outside, but the brisk air did serve to wake them up a bit.

As they were chatting quietly about their schedules, Ginny and Harry trying to figure out where to go and which classes to attend, Luna suddenly spoke up. "Harry, didn't you say that Fleur and her friends went swimming this morning?"

"What's that, Luna?" Harry said, then his mind caught up with his ears. "Oh, yeah. They wanted to see if there was anything interesting about the lake. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. I don't know of anyone else who'd want to swim when it's so cold out."

Hermione and Ginny looked up in shock. Why hadn't they thought of that?

Hermione, ever inquisitive, posed the question. "Harry, how did they go swimming without catching frostbite? And why would they do it when it's so cold out?"

"Oh, knowing Fleur she probably just wanted to try out her new bikini. Mama wasn't best pleased that she'd bought it, but Fleur is old enough to decide what she wants. And don't you know the _l__'__eau__chaude_ charm? Hermione, of all people I'd expect you'd know it," he finished, in a blatantly teasing voice.

Hermione blushed. "Well, I guess I. . . that is to say. . . that's probably a seventh-year charm, right? And I haven't gotten past the middle of sixth year yet. . ." she trailed off as she noticed the three Beauxbatons students snickering at her. "Oh, hush up, you! It's probably seventh-year for you too, isn't it?"

Harry laughingly agreed. "Yup, it is. But Fleur studied especially hard-she really wants to get a good job when she graduates, and being able to swim in any temperature water would be quite useful. Not to mention that by now all the upper-class boys in Hogwarts know that-" Harry made his voice rather low and husky, "-that beautiful blond girl from Beauxbatons wore the most amazing swimming costume ever, and went swimming in freezing water!" His voice went back to normal, and he finished up with, "I think she's really hoping to find some wonderful guy to fall head over heels in love with while she's here. She told me she's tired of just being adored from afar." He though for a bit. "Hey, Ginny, are any of your older brothers unattached?"

Ginny blinked a bit at the question, then grinned. "Yup, in fact, all of them." Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Okay, not really. I mean, from here it looks like Ron is rather attached to Lavender, or maybe it's the other way around. The twins are kind of hanging around the Gryffindor Quidditch girls-you know, the three chasers, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie. I'm not sure whether they are just being friends, or whether there's some romantic activity. But I think they'd still be a little young for your sister."

"Well, that's only three-you have six, right? What about the other ones?"

"Well, there's Percy. He just graduated from Hogwarts last year. I think he had a girlfriend at one time-I mean, I caught him with a girl when I was in second year. And they weren't exactly comparing revision schedules. Or maybe they were, just, you know, _very__intensely_."

Hermione giggled. "I think I remember that evening-you came back rather disturbed to the Common Room, didn't you? I seem to recall you said something about seeing 'way too much of Percy."

"No, what I said was that I saw a different side of Percy, and not one I ever wanted to see again."

"But is he still seeing this girl?" Harry interjected, hoping to head off the current digression.

"Oh, um, I don't know. She's graduated too, so I don't see anything of her anymore. But even if they weren't still together, I don't think Fleur would like him very much. He spends far and away too much time with his job. To listen to him, you'd think he was the one to personally wipe the Minister's nose each time he sneezes."

Harry looked interested. "He works for the Minister? That's pretty impressive."

"Yeah," Ginny said in a wry voice. "It sounds good, until you realize that he's a very junior member of the Committee for Imports, Cleaning Charms, and Herbology Studies. I don't think he's ever even _met_ the Minister, at least face to face. Last summer he was all hot and bothered over a piece of incredibly boring legislation involving standardized cauldron bottom thickness." Ginny made a sour face at that, and Harry chuckled.

"Yeah, I think you're right-Fleur needs someone who isn't quite so. . . " Harry trailed off, unable to determine exactly what to call Percy without offending Ginny.

"Full of himself?" Ginny suggested. "Well, since it would be hard to be _worse_ than Percy-"

Hermione lightly slapped Ginny's shoulder. "Hey, you should talk more nicely about him-he's always been very polite to me."

"Well, of course! He actually thought you shared his adoration of good marks and stuffy bureaucracy, Hermione! Didn't you know that?" Ginny asked, incredulously.

"Well, I mean, that's just. . . Well, good marks _are_ important!" Hermione responded indignantly, which just served to make everyone else laugh at her. Finally, she smiled, willing to acknowledge the humor.

"And that just leaves Bill and Charlie," Ginny continued, when everyone had calmed down. "Charlie's 21 and currently working on a dragon preserve in Romania. He mentioned in his last letter that he might be able to come visit for one of my games, so I guess she could meet him then." Ginny paused for a minute, thinking. "Bill's planning on coming home too. He's been working for Gringotts in Egypt doing curse-breaking and treasure hunting and stuff like that. But he's got some vacation time, and wanted to see me play, so he'll be here too."

Harry smiled-he still found it amazing that Ginny had been able to withstand the pressures of having six older brothers while being the only daughter. Stories like this gave him a greater appreciation of the girl he had fallen for.

Unfortunately, their free period ended just then, and with a quick, albeit passionate, kiss, Harry and Ginny headed off to their separate classes, with their friends accompanying them.


	13. EarthShaking Revelation

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 13, **Earth-shaking Revelation**  
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, without whom the sun wouldn't shine, the stars wouldn't glitter, and this would be much more incomprehensible.

oooooooooo

After dinner that evening, as Ginny and Harry, and their assorted friends, were leaving the Great Hall, Ginny leaned into Harry and stretched a bit so she could whisper in his ear. "Harry, do you think we could find some time to be alone?"

Harry grew a grin wider than he was. "Of course!" He turned to their friends. "Hey, guys. Ginny and I need to go talk about some stuff. We'll see you in awhile, okay?"

Hermione, of course, looked rather inquisitively at Ginny, who just shook her head and mouthed, "Later" to her. Neville took the opportunity to whisper something in Hermione's ear, which made her smile almost as widely as Harry. With an apologetic glance at Tex, Josette, and Luna, Neville and Hermione turned and headed out to the Greenhouses.

Josette and Luna had been walking slightly behind the others, discussing where else they could look for the Dagnabbles. The two girls had decided that maybe they needed to find a Tame Dagnabble first, so they'd be able to recognize an Exotic Dagnabble later. The two barely even noticed when Harry and Ginny left, nor when the other couple had gone.

Tex walked beside Josette, happy to hear her excited conversation, but paying more attention to the little voices inside his head, which were having an argument. One was telling him that now was the time to make a move; the other was pointing out all he had to lose. The argument went on for a little while, until finally the first little voice won a rather major victory over the second.

As the trio wandered the halls, Tex gradually angled his steps so that he was walking much closer to Josette. She, apparently, didn't notice, as her conversation with Luna continued uninterrupted. Tex thought he heard something about _Rumpled-Crowned Snore-Cats_, but hadn't been following along closely enough to be sure. But now, judging the distance to be perfect, he let his hand swing out just a little bit more, and it met up with Josette's hand. He quickly clasped hers in his, and kept walking.

Josette had been rather enjoying the time she was spending with Luna. The Ravenclaw was exceedingly intelligent, although she took pains to hide it. Thankfully, Luna had decided that she could trust Josette, and had let down much of her guard. The two girls were walking slowly through the castle, and the only thing that really interfered with their discussion was Josette's hyper-awareness of Tex's proximity. Sometimes it meant that her responses to Luna were a little less well thought out than normal, but Luna just smiled at her friend, and made no mention of it.

Josette was incredibly startled, then, when one of Tex's hands took hold of one of hers. She just about stopped dead still in the middle of the corridor, but Tex hadn't slowed down at all, and so she, perforce, kept going. She looked up, gape-mouthed, at the boy she'd had a crush on for so long, but he wasn't looking down at her. No, he was just watching the corridors up ahead, but a tell-tale blush on his face belied his apparent lack of interest.

Luna had continued talking during this time, but even if it were to be on their end-of-year tests, Josette couldn't have remembered what the other girl had said. Finding that she didn't have any problems with the new . . . hand arrangement, Josette turned back to Luna. "I'm sorry, Luna, what were you saying? I was a little distracted."

"Of course," Luna said. "It's not every day that your soul mate takes you by the hand. Does it feel as nice as you'd hoped?"

The trio was silent for a bit, while Luna waited for an answer, Tex did the same (while blushing), and Josette opened and closed her mouth without letting any sound out. Finally, though, she managed to stammer out, "S. . . soul m. . . m . . mate?"

Luna looked surprised. "Of course! Didn't you know? Oh, shouldn't I have said anything? Hermione and Ginny are always trying to help me learn to control my words, but sometimes they just spill out." She stopped while they waited for a staircase to swing into position. "I do hope I haven't ruined anything, have I?" The woebegone look on her face made both Josette and Tex turn and try to wrap her in a hug. It wasn't a very successful hug, as Tex didn't let go of Josette, but between them they managed to comfort her enough.

Tex cleared his throat, and, after the girls turned to face him, said, "Um, Josette. . . I . . . I hope I haven't ruined anything, but I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"What, hold my hand?" Josette answered.

"No. I mean, well, yeah, that too. But really I wanted to show you that I liked you-_like you_, I mean. Erm, yeah, well, so, do you think you could be my girlfriend?"

The bashfully hopeful look on Tex's face was absolutely adorable, even Luna thought so, and would tell Hermione and Ginny about it later on. But Josette, seeing the hope, and affection, in his eyes, let go of Luna, and threw both arms around Tex. "Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!"

Tex gently leaned down to Josette, giving her plenty of time to back up, or put her hand over his mouth, or do something to indicate she wasn't ready to kiss him, but what Josette really did was lick her lips, tilt her head, and close her eyes.

It was a good thing that Luna liked talking to the portraits, because any type of verbal communication from her other two friends would have to wait for a significant amount of time, as their lips were otherwise occupied.

oooooooooo

Harry and Ginny decided to go visit the Beauxbatons carriage. Ginny had been rather fascinated by Harry's description of their dorm rooms, and classrooms, and especially the idea that all of that space could fit inside a carriage that, while undoubtedly bigger than any carriage she'd ever seen, still shouldn't have been big enough. She took a moment to wish her parents had been able to do that for the Burrow-perhaps then she'd not have had to share a bathroom for all of her life, but gave up on useless speculation when Harry ushered her through the door into the carriage proper.

"This is just incredible, Harry!" Ginny enthused as she saw the tasteful pastel color of the hallways, the warm carpeting, and the beautiful paintings that graced the walls. "It's so, so _warm_! Don't get me wrong, I love Hogwarts, but it can get rather cold and, and, I don't know. Too impressive, or something."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I see what you mean. The first time I went into your castle-well, I didn't really pay attention 'cause I was with you." He blushed a bit, which, curiously, comforted Ginny. He cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, um, I could tell we were definitely in a castle-you can't really hide that. You know," he continued, thinking for a bit. "I don't know how your History classes are, but we studied some of the history of England. I bet Hogwarts was originally built for some type of defense."

Ginny looked up at Harry in surprise. "I hadn't ever thought of it, you know. I just always figured Hogwarts was Hogwarts, and that's the way it was. But you're probably right." She paused for a moment. "What about Beauxbatons? I don't think I've ever seen pictures of it."

Harry smiled. "Oh, I'll have to take you there. It's absolutely beautiful!" He stopped for a bit to marshal his thoughts. "It's like Sleeping Beauty's castle." At Ginny's uncomprehending look, he explained further. "Do you know the story of Sleeping Beauty?" She nodded, and he continued. "Well, have you ever heard of Disneyland?" Ginny thought for a moment, then shook her head. "What are they teaching you in Muggle Studies?" he asked in surprise.

Ginny grinned. "I don't know, actually-I'm not taking it."

Harry kissed her. "Well, there's a really fun place in California, in the United States. I guess there's other places too, like Japan, and, oh, there's one that opened just a couple years ago in Paris, although I haven't gone to it or anything. Anyway, it's like a bunch of fairy tales in there-they've built a castle for Sleeping Beauty, and there's a carousel for King Arthur, and all sorts of things like that. They call it the Happiest Place on Earth. I really want to go someday-I hear it's a great place for a honeymoon." He stopped short as he realized just what he'd said.

Ginny goggled a bit, then got an evil grin. "Why, Mr. Delacour, are you already planning our honeymoon?"

Harry stared in shock at what Ginny had said. He had always known that if he found a Mate he'd end up marrying her. But the matter-of-fact acceptance that underlaid her words surprised him. He'd anticipated quite a long discussion, probably with associated yelling and occasional hexing, while he explained to her exactly what having a Mate implied. But this-this was a blessing he had never expected. He shook his head upon realizing that it had been quite a long time since Ginny had asked her question, and she was still grinning up at him.

He took comfort from Ginny's smile, and leaned down and kissed her again. This time the kiss carried on for much longer, although they never let it pass the boundaries of propriety, conscious of their not-very-private location. Finally Harry pulled back a bit and said, smirking at Ginny, "Is that a proposal, Miss Weasley?"

His teasing of her failed spectacularly, though, as she just kissed him lightly, and said, "Would you accept if it were?"

Harry smiled down at her, kissed her on the nose, and changed the subject. "I think we should go talk with my headmistress. I think she'd probably like to meet you. And maybe after that we can talk a little more about this hypothetical honeymoon."

Ginny blushed a bit, but didn't turn away, and they went to talk with the Beauxbatons Headmistress.

oooooooooo

"So she's just okay with you visiting any of my classes that you want?" Ginny asked again. It had amazed her that Madame Maxime hadn't even blinked an eye at Harry's introducing her as his mate. Although the way that Harry had emphasized the word had made it seem like it wasn't just a simple word he was using. The Headmistress had smiled and congratulated the two of them, and then proceeded to tell Harry he was authorized to spend any time he wanted to with Ginny. Although she had added that it would be better not to spend the night, at least until both sets of parents gave their permission.

"Yeah, that's great, isn't it? But, I'm not sure we should-" Harry stopped at the hurt look Ginny gave him. "No, no, don't think that. It's not that I don't want to spend all day with you, Gin, but we need to think of the longer term."

Ginny nodded, but glared at him some more, indicating that he really needed to continue his explanation.

"Well, I mean, there's nothing I'd love more than to be with you all the time, but I don't want us to fail our classes. And as much as I'd like to keep you all to myself, I think your friends might have something to say about that. And your brothers." Ginny still didn't look too happy, and Harry remembered something he'd heard his father say once. "But Ginny, if you'd rather I come to all your classes with you, then I will. My classes are certainly not as important to me as you are, and if you need me to be there, I'll come."

Ginny had started to smile by then, and Harry grinned back at her, but then she frowned. "What do you mean, if I need you? I don't need you to be in all my classes! Honestly!"

Harry sat back in surprise. "Gin, I just wanted you to know that I'll do whatever you want me to do!"

"Harry! Argh! You're so frustrating! Of course I want to be with you all the time. But I don't want you to flunk out of your classes either! I've never had a relationship, but I don't think we can make this work unless we're both willing to give and take, yeah? I mean, you _do _want this to continue, right?"

"Of course, Ginevra! But don't girls want their guys to do whatever they ask? I mean, guys just fall all over Fleur-"

"Oh, now you're calling me a deluded fangirl? That's rich! May I remind you that you're the one that kissed me first! You just walked up to me and said you've been waiting for me, and kissed me! I'll have you know I'd be just fine-"

Harry kissed her. Then, as he pulled back and she started up again, he kissed her again, longer this time. Once again, when he broke the kiss, she started right into her rant, so he kissed her again, even longer. This time, though, when he backed away, she looked up at him and whispered, "More, please."

When Harry had finished calming her down, Harry led her to the student lounge. Thankfully there weren't too many students there, and he was able to find a secluded corner with a large, overstuffed chair. He sat down, and pulled Ginny down to his lap.

"Now, what was all that about, Ginevra? Are you really that mad at me?"

Ginny blushed and leaned closer, nuzzling into the side of his neck. She sighed a long sigh, and said, "No, Harry, I'm not. It's just that, well, we've only known each other for a couple of days, and already we're joking about marriage. You don't think, maybe, we're moving too fast? I mean, what if we get older and realize that we like someone else?" Feeling Harry wince, she leaned back to look at him. Seeing his stricken face, she hastened to add, "Not that I think that'll happen, Harry. But we're only children. Are we ready for this to be the only serious relationship we'll ever have?"

Harry smiled a bit, remembering the incredibly embarrassing, but equally helpful talk his mother had given him back before he had started school. "Ginevra, dearest, I can promise you that we'll never have regrets about our relationship-"

"How can you promise that? Nobody knows the future! And I've heard plenty of rumors about couples that have gone too far and regretted it later. What's to keep that from happening to us?" The look on Ginny's face was equal parts anxiety for their future, and hope that maybe Harry really did have an answer for these problems.

"Ginny, I promise you, here and now, that we won't ever cross those boundaries until after we're married." Ginny looked a little surprised that Harry was still talking about marriage, but he placed a gentle finger over her lips when she went to protest. "Hush, Ginevra, and I'll explain that part too."

Finally Ginny nodded her acquiescence, and Harry took his finger away. Of course, being Harry, he took it away very slowly, brushing it along her lips as he did so, making Ginny shudder in pleasure.

"Now, you remember that we talked about Fleur being a Veela, right?"

Ginny nodded, then looked at him in shock. "You're a Veela, too?" she asked, incredulous.

"Well, yeah," Harry answered, gratified by her quick thinking. "But not for the reasons you think I am. You see, Fleur's not my real sister. I was taken in by Fleur's family when I was very young. They don't talk much about it, and the only memories I have aren't very good ones." A brief look of pain crossed his face, but then he smiled. "They adopted me, but not magically. They told me that there were good reasons for doing it that way, but they've always been my parents, and I've always been their son. I think they were so eager to have me because they'd just lost a daughter, and I helped to, I don't know, fill up the empty space in their family."

"So, you're not really a Veela? No, wait, you said you were. Are you telling me that the Delacour family, who obviously has Veela blood, just accidentally adopted a little boy who also had Veela blood? That's just. . ."

"Amazing, I know. Who else would have been able to tell me about my heritage, and explain about the Veela abilities-"

Ginny interrupted. "Allure! You have Veela Allure, don't you?" She thought for a bit. "Did you use your Allure on me?" The look she gave Harry made him very glad to be able to answer in the negative.

"No! Merlin, no, Ginny, I did _not _try to trap you into a relationship with me" Harry seemed rather upset about it, and Ginny felt an immediate pang of guilt. "I would never do that, Ginevra-that's just wrong. I wouldn't want someone to like me just because of some magical _thing_! Can you just listen while I explain everything else? Please?"

Ginny subsided, and nodded her head again, chastened. "I'm sorry, Harry. I guess I'm just not used to the idea-there have been some idiots who've tried to trick me into kissing them before, and I guess I just get too defensive."

"You guess? I think I'd have to agree with you on that. Now, promise me you'll let me explain what's going on before you decide to take offense again, okay? I don't want to have to keep holding you back from reacting so strongly."

"Okay, Harry. I promise. Although it might be better if I put my wand over on the table."

Harry laughed, and agreed. "Okay, now we told you all about the Allure, so you understand that. But there's also the matter of Veela Mating."

Ginny did as she'd promised, and listened through the entire explanation of Mating, and what all it entailed. She guessed, before Harry told her, that Fleur didn't have a Mate, and smiled as she heard the story of Harry's parents finding each other.

"So, Ginny, I firmly believe that you are my Mate. I've never felt this way about anyone-never really had a desire to go out with any girl, or kiss any, but when I saw you standing there, you just filled my mind and heart, and I knew I needed to be with you. You complete me, although that's rather a trite phrase. But it's true-without you I would never again be whole."

"And from what you're saying, it'll always be the same for us, for me, right?" Ginny asked, for clarification. "There'll never be any other guy that I'll fancy, or want to be with?"

"That's right. I'm rather pleased about that, actually. I don't know that I'd be able to withstand seeing you flirt with anyone else, or think they're cute or something." His eyes took a faraway look. "I think that'd be a perfect description of hell, you know. Being Mated to someone who didn't feel the same way."

Ginny leaned up and kissed him. "Well, I can't see that ever happening-I've never wanted any guy, except for you. And now that I have you, I'm not letting you go."

Harry's smile was brilliant enough, almost, to light up their secluded corner, and they both found it rather necessary to start kissing again.

Eventually, the growing hub-bub of the returning Beauxbatons students brought them out of their self-involvement. They looked up in surprise at the time, noting that Ginny only had about ten minutes to get back to her Common Room or she'd be breaking curfew.

Trying to ford the incoming tide of returning Beauxbatons students, the couple found themselves face to face with Fleur.

"Hi, Harry!" his big sister said as she wrapped her arms around her brother. "How are you, Ginny?"

"Oh, we're fine, Fleur, but Ginny has to get back to Ravenclaw tower within the next-" he looked quickly at his watch, "-eight minutes." Harry noticed that Fleur was grinning and testily asked her, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, dear brother. I just had a rather interesting experience-made me laugh. But if you two are in too much of a rush to hear it, I'll just let you go." The blond girl turned to walk away, but Ginny snagged her arm.

"You can't just leave it like that, Fleur. I can be a little late. Oh, hush, Harry, I'll be fine." Ginny's determination surprised Harry, but the redhead managed to drag both Fleur and Harry over to a sofa out of the way of the incoming students.

"Well, remember that I was supposed to go eat with that Cedric person? Well, it didn't surprise me-it can get to be quite bothersome being a Veela. Oh, Ginny, did Harry explain about the Mating thing?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, that's what we were doing all evening." She blushed a bit. "Well, almost all evening. But what about you? Is Cedric the right guy for you?"

Fleur giggled a bit, which surprised Harry, who wasn't used to his older sister showing her girly side like that. "Oh no," she responded. "No, I can definitely say he isn't. And it's not like I ever had a chance with him."

Harry turned to look at Fleur sharply. "What? What do you mean you didn't have a chance? Did you use your Allure on him?"

Fleur shook her head. "No, Harry, have a little faith. He's a really nice guy, and probably a great Quidditch player, but he wasn't really interested in me as a date-he just wanted to chat a bit. He's really rather charming. But the whole time I was sitting with him, he kept stealing glances over to your table."

"What? Are you saying he was looking at me?" Harry was rather disturbed by the intimation.

Fleur laughed. "No, no, nothing like that. But there was this black-haired girl sitting a little way away from you, and when she got up to leave Cedric got the most peculiar look on his face. Kind of a mix of disappointment and desire."

"Seriously?" Ginny asked. "Cedric fancies Cho?" For that was the only person it could be. Ginny shouldn't have been too surprised-having spent the last three years in the same house meant that she was well aware of how beautiful the other girl was. "Oh, that's just perfect. And she's certainly different than you, Fleur. I wonder if he was trying to make her jealous or something."

Fleur made a little sound, as if trying to suppress a chuckle, and Ginny looked at her suspiciously. "Okay, there's got to be more to the story. Come on, tell us the rest of it."

"Well, this evening as I was walking around with Cedric and some of his friends, who, unfortunately, don't have the same lack of interest in me. . . . Well, anyway, we were walking over in front of your library, and suddenly Cho herself came rushing out of the library, and ran smack into Cedric. They both fell over and Cho's book bag split open. So, of course Cedric helped her up. Well, he had to wait until Cho got off him, first, and let me tell you, she wasn't very speedy at doing that!"

Ginny and Harry both stared wide-eyed at Fleur, enthralled in her story.

"Well, anyway, Cedric helped her pick up her things, and then the two of them just kind of walked off. They didn't even say goodbye! And as they went around the corner, I could have sworn I saw Cedric reach out and take her hand!"

The other two showed their appreciation for the humor of the situation, but Fleur wasn't done. "But that's not the funny part! You see, just as we were coming up to the library, I could have sworn I heard someone say, 'Cho, he's just about here, get ready!'"

This time Harry and Ginny both broke out into hoots of laughter. "You mean?" Ginny gasped. "You mean it was all a setup? Oh, that's just priceless. Who would have thought that Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang would end up fancying each other. That's just perfect." She trailed off, and looked serious. "I wonder how that'll work out with them both being Seekers. I mean, Cedric's pretty good, but I'm sure Cho would love to be bumped up to First Team, no matter who the Seeker is."

"Well, I don't think it's going to harm the relationship. At least, I hope not," Fleur opined. "It's not as if they're directly competing against each other, right?"

Harry thought for a bit, then nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, they're both for Hogwarts, so they won't have to play against each other. . ." He trailed off, obviously thinking about something. "Ginny?" he asked, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Is it going to be a problem, you and I playing against each other?"

Ginny looked at her boyfriend. She was tempted to make some sort of joke about how if he really cared about her, he'd make sure she won, but the worry in his eyes demanded a serious answer. "Harry, it's not even going to be an issue. You're a Seeker, first team, right? And I'm a Chaser, second team. Even if I were to move up to First Team, we still wouldn't be going directly against each other."

Harry looked very relieved at this. "I'm glad-I don't think I could stand hurting our relationship over a game." He looked at his sister. "Of course, if you do make it up to your first team, you'll be going against Fleur-and she's the best Keeper ever!"

Ginny looked at Fleur, then shrugged. "That's all right-I'm not worried. We'll just play our best, no matter what, right?"

Fleur reached over and hugged the younger girl. "Of course-family is family, and Quidditch-"

"-is Quidditch," Ginny finished.

Harry looked down at his watch and just about cursed. "Ginny, you're past curfew! What are we going to do? I don't want you to get into trouble."

Ginny just shrugged. "Well, not much we can do about it now. I'll just have to hope I don't run into any teachers."

The trio stood up and Ginny hugged Fleur again, then gave Harry a quick kiss. "Breakfast tomorrow?"

Harry nodded, and walked her to the door. He kissed her one last time, and watched as she stepped down on to the ground.

As Ginny left, two people emerged from the shadows. "Ah, Ginny dear. Spending quite the time with your young beau, eh?"

"Fred, George, why are you two out here? You should be back in the castle too!"

The twins each took one of Ginny's arms and started walking her back to the castle.

"Why yes, dear sister, we should, but we couldn't let you walk back all by yourself; that would be rather ungentlemanly of us."

"And as everyone knows, we are the epitome of gentlemanly courtesy and proper conduct."

Ginny stifled a guffaw, "Yeah, pull the other one, it's got bells on. Come on, tell me the truth, why are you here?"

Fred, or at least, the one on the left, whom Ginny assumed was Fred-it was too dark to be completely sure-pulled out a ragged parchment and whispered something under his breath. While he was doing that, the other twin, George, probably, took on a serious tone. "Ginny, we happened to see you leaving after dinner with your young Harry, and we noticed something rather strange."

Fred took up the explanation. "You see, we happen to have. . . well. . . iinherited/i a most marvelous map. It shows everyone in the castle, at all times." He stopped them as they went up the castle steps, right where a patch of light was shining through one of the stained glass windows. "See?" he asked, holding up the parchment so Ginny could take a look.

She gasped. Right there, on the map, it showed Fred Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and George Weasley, right in front of the big front doors. And on the other side was a dot labeled Minerva McGonagall.

"Exactly, my dear sister," George continued. "So we can sneak around anywhere we want, and not get caught." Noticing that the McGonagall dot had moved away, he reached out and gently opened the door, and the trio continued their walk.

"That's just, that's incredible!" Ginny gushed, although very quietly. "No wonder you two never get caught!"

"Ah, yes, that's one of our trade secrets, and you won't be telling anyone, right?" Fred stated.

Ginny shook her head. "No, I won't tell anyone, but you have to let me use it occasionally, yeah?"

The twins glanced at each other quickly, then George nodded. "Yeah, all right."

The twins gently steered Ginny towards Ravenclaw tower. "But, ickle Gin-Gin, that's not really what we needed to talk about. You see. . ."

". . .we thought we'd kind of keep an eye on you and your Harry to make sure he wasn't, you know, pulling you into too many broom closets or something like that. He wasn't, was he? Only, the map doesn't show any detail about inside the Beauxbatons carriage."

Ginny just smiled. "Yeah, like I'm going to tell you about that!"

George smiled fatalistically. "It was worth a try. But getting back onto our main topic."

Fred took over the narration as they climbed a secret set of stairs that led them from in front of the hospital wing up to the floor right below Ravenclaw Tower. "We watched you and Harry walk out, then went to see you on the map. And, well. . ."

"It showed you, our little sister, Ginevra Weasley walking with one Harry Potter."


	14. Identity

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 14, **Identity**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, without whom the waves would cease, the wind wouldn't blow, and this would be much more incomprehensible.

oooooooooo

A very uncharacteristically quiet Ginny entered her dorm room that night. She barely remembered her twin brothers leaving her at the entrance to her common room, and she supposed she must have gone through the common room and up the stairs to her room. But her mind had stopped, had choked on the knowledge that Harry Delacour, _her_ Harry, was the Harry Potter that she'd known about all her life.

When Fred and George had sprung this knowledge on her she had refused to believe it at first. But they had sworn up and down that the map didn't lie-after all, hadn't it led them to Peter Pettigrew back in her first year? They had claimed that it always showed the correct names for everyone. She had even used her most potent glare on them, and they hadn't changed their story.

So, she had to believe it was true―or rather, that Fred and George _believed _it to be true. Ginny, of course, had a history of distrusting magical items that seemed too smart for their own good-_that_ had been drilled into her-but she'd never known her twin brothers to outright lie to her.

Hermione, of course, noticed that something was wrong as soon as Ginny walked in. "Ginny!" she finally got the girl's attention by yelling into her face.

"What?" Ginny asked back, irritated.

"I asked what's wrong," Hermione repeated.

"Oh, um, . . . nothing."

"Don't give me that, Ginevra Molly Weasley! You're walking around in a daze, and it took me five minutes to get your attention. So, tell me. What happened?"

"Um, well, see, I was with Harry-"

"Did Harry do something to you? Did he hurt you? I swear I'll hunt him down, and I don't care _who_ he thinks he is, I'm going to rip his throat out. There was a particularly vicious organ-shredding curse in the Ls in the library. I bet if I cast it at his appendix it would kill him without-"

"Hermione!" Ginny interrupted. "Stop! No, it's nothing Harry did. Or rather, I don't think he did anything. Maybe he did. I should go talk to him." Ginny got up determinedly and started toward the door.

Hermione rushed after her and grabbed her arm, shutting the door with her hip as she did so. "Ginny! You can't do that!"

"You bet your _Hogwarts: A History_ I can! Get out of my way!"

"Fine, Ginny. But I guarantee if you walk through the common room like that Michael Corner will NEVER leave you alone. . . " and Hermione moved aside.

Ginny took stock, and realized that she had been halfway through preparing for bed when she had decided she needed to storm the Beauxbatons carriage. Her robes were off, as were her blouse and left shoe. She was, at the moment, rather fetchingly clad in a dark blue skirt, fuzzy yellow socks (the kind that really help your feet stay warm in the winter), her right shoe, and a pale green bra. The last item had rather more lace than she'd normally wear, but she had known she was to spend a large portion of the day with Harry, and a girl just _has_ to feel good about herself. It, along with the matching knickers, made her feel more deliciously feminine than anything else she owned.

Ginny sighed wryly, and sat down on her bed. "Hermione," she said, looking up at her best friend. "I think we need to get Luna, and call Prissy, okay?"

Hermione agreed at once and ran downstairs to the third-year girls' dorms. Ginny took the opportunity to continue changing from her current state of dishabille into her most comfortable flannel pajamas.

Once Hermione had returned with their blond friend, she pulled her comforter off her bed, and all three girls jumped onto Ginny's bed.

"Prissy!" called Ginny, and seconds later a house elf popped into their dorm room.

"Yes, Mistress Ginny? What can Prissy be getting for Mistress Ginny and her friends tonight? Is it to be being an ice-cream night again?"

Luna smiled at the little elf and clapped her hands. "Oh, I sure hope so―it's been so long since we talked bad about boys. Can I get Screwy Louie, Prissy?"

The little house elf turned to Luna. "Of course, Mistress Loony." She turned next to Hermione. "And you, Mistress Grangy, what is you being wanting?"

Hermione bit her lip. It was always so hard to decide. "Prissy, if it wouldn't be too much work, could I have dulce de leche?"

Prissy smiled and bobbed her head. "Of course, Mistress Grangy. It is not being a problem."

It was Ginny's turn next. "I think it's a chocolate night, Prissy." After a glare from Hermione, she added, in an obligatory manner, "ifit'snottoomuchtrouble."

Prissy nodded again, hiding a smile. "Of course, Mistress Ginny. It is never being trouble to be serving you and your friends. And if it is to be being a chocolate night for you, Prissy will be bringing two bowls of whipped cream."

The house elf popped out, and popped back in with the goodies the girls had asked for. After distributing everything, she left, and Hermione charmed Ginny's curtains shut.

"Okay, Ginny, what's going on?" Hermione jumped straight into the discussion.

Luna was the one who answered, though. "I think Ginny and Harry have discovered their inner chitilitude, and it's scary."

Ginny gaped at her friend, but shook her head and looked at Hermione. "Well, I think we might have found out why Harry Potter didn't start school at Hogwarts when we did."

That was all it took-Hermione furrowed her brow, thought for a moment, and then gasped. "You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "Not, not your Harry!"

Ginny just nodded. "Yup, I'm pretty sure." She explained about the map, ignoring Hermione's offended squawks, and then posed the important question. "So, what do I do? I mean, he lied to me! How am I supposed to treat him now?"

Luna just smiled, said, "He's still your Harry, Ginny," and ate some more ice cream.

Hermione sank deep into thought. Ginny knew not to interrupt her when she had her 'thinking' face on, so focused on her chocolate ice cream. Luna started commenting about the patterns in the drapes, and Ginny nodded every so often as Luna made a more-interesting observation.

"Ginny," came Hermione's hesitant voice.

"Yeah, Hermione?" Ginny answered, while Luna's commentary trailed off.

"I guess you really only have three options. At least, as far as I can see. I mean, there's probably more, but there are three broad categories. I haven't really narrowed down the sub-categories yet, although it would be interesting to map out the. . . " Hermione's voice trailed off as she noticed Ginny's glare. "Yes, sorry, well, um, I guess the broad categories will be enough for right now.

"Anyway, the first option is to assume that the Twins are lying, or somehow their information is wrong. Just ignore what they said, and continue on getting to know Harry and seeing if things might lead somewhere interesting."

Ginny just shook her head.

"No, somehow I didn't figure you'd let this go that easily. Well, the second option is to just ask Harry about it. I mean, you two are pretty close, right? You should be able to just talk to him and see what he says, right?"

Ginny cocked her head to one side and thought. It certainly seemed to be the least subtle way, but it was better than just ignoring the question. "Well, what's the third option?"

Hermione shrugged. "You could ditch him and end up with someone else." As she said this, she looked carefully at Ginny, anxious to see her reaction.

Ginny cringed. Just the thought of never seeing Harry again was painful. "No!" she just about yelled. "Hermione, I can't do that."

Hermione had figured that Ginny wouldn't go for the third option, but hadn't expected the vehemence with which Ginny rejected the idea. "Why not, Ginny? I mean, I'm sure there are other blokes out there that you might meet. Harry's really handsome, but there are lots of other guys in the world. . ."

"Not for me, Hermione. I don't think there will ever be anyone else."

Luna spoke up then. "Yes, you can see the blissworts growing on them already. They'll be together forever. Is there any more dulce de leche?"

Hermione handed over what was left of her ice cream and peered at Ginny closely. "Ginny, what makes you say that? I mean, you're only fourteen. There are a lot of other fish in the sea-" she paused, looking at Ginny's and Luna's puzzled faces. "Never mind, Muggle expression. Anyway, there're a lot of other guys out there that you've never even seen. Why are you so sure Harry's The One for you?"

Ginny squirmed a bit. She hadn't really wanted to get into this topic quite yet, especially as they were discussing the other problem she was having with Harry, but maybe the two issues were related. "Well, you see . . . Um, the thing is. . . well, he's a Veela."

It was a good thing that Hermione had given her ice cream to Luna, as she dropped everything else she was holding in amazement. Luna just blinked, and smiled.

"He's a Veela? But. . . but . . ." Hermione stammered.

Ginny told the other two all the information she had on Veela, their Mating, their history, and everything else Harry had told her. By the time she'd finished explaining, the ice cream had all disappeared, Ginny's and Hermione's roommates had all gone to sleep, and Hermione's time charm showed that it was 3:00 in the morning.

Yawning widely, the three girls decided to call it a night. Hermione uncharmed the drapes and Luna hugged the other two, taking the opportunity to whisper a "congratulations" into Ginny's ear, then went down to bed.

Hermione drifted off to her own bed, mulling over all the possibilities and options and new information, and Ginny turned over, wondering what kind of new, strange thing would happen the next day to throw her life into turmoil.

oooooooooo

Harry was rather worried. Ginny was extraordinarily late for breakfast the next morning. Harry couldn't eat for nerves, and when she finally came in, accompanied by Hermione and Luna, she looked much less rested than normal, and her two friends didn't look any better.

"Ginny?" he asked, as he rose up from his seat.

She smiled at him, which calmed him down a bit, and then kissed him, which calmed him down a lot.

After the three girls had sat down and wearily started to eat, Harry looked at his girlfriend again. "I was, um, a little worried that you'd decided to be upset at me. You know, about what I told you last night. Are you?"

Ginny smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm okay with that." She looked him in the eyes. "Really and truly, I'm fine, all right?"

Harry sat back, slightly mollified. "Okay, but then, what's wrong? You three look like you've been up for the whole night, or something. Was it some kind of Ravenclaw study session?" he tried to joke.

"Oh, no. It's just. . . well, I found out something last night that kind of surprised me, and Hermione and Luna and I stayed up rather late to discuss it."

Harry heard what she said, but noticed that there was some question in her eyes that he didn't understand. "Okay. Do I want to know what it is?"

She swallowed a bite of egg, to give her time to think. "Harry, there's something very important that we need to discuss, but we need to do it where no-one can hear us, all right?"

"Um, are _we_ still okay?" Harry asked, unable to hide the slight tremor in his voice.

Ginny smiled brilliantly at him. "Yes, Harry. I'm still your Mate, and that will never change."

Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief, and sat back to watch his girlfriend finish her breakfast.

oooooooooo

"Okay, Ginevra," Harry asked as they walked away from the castle. "What is it that you want to discuss that's so important?"

Ginny walked in silence for a bit, then reached over and took his hand. "Harry, you said you were adopted. Do you know anything about your birth family?"

Harry stopped, then started walking again. "I don't know a whole lot about the people I lived with before the Delacours rescued me. I remember being very sad there, and hurting a lot. But that's about it."

Ginny squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry you had to have that happen to you. I hope I get to meet your parents some day to thank them for saving you."

They walked for a bit more in silence before Harry said, "I'm guessing that's not what you wanted to talk about, right?"

Ginny smiled a little. "No. Well, not really. I didn't ask about the family you were rescued from; I asked about your birth family. You know, the Potters."

Harry felt his heart sink. "How did you find out?" he asked, morosely certain that he was about to find the limits of her temper.

She surprised him, though. "Harry, don't sound like that. This doesn't change anything. Does it change how you feel about me?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, it doesn't change how I feel about you, okay? Okay, Harry?"

"Okay, I guess. It's just that, well, I've been Harry Delacour for as long as I can remember. And my Mum and Dad have told me about the Potters and Voldemort and all that. But truly, it seems like something that happened to someone else. How could I have vanquished Voldemort? I was barely one year old!"

"Harry. . . Harry! Stop it! It's not a bad thing, okay? It just means you had some good luck back then, right? Well, maybe that means you're going to be lucky in the future. And hey, maybe if some other Dark Lord tries to attack some time, you'll accidentally beat him too, yeah?"

"Ginny, that's not funny! I mean, my parents died because some idiot with a bad taste in names decided to try to kill me! What if another one comes along and tries again? And I don't think I could bear having you, or, or. . ." Harry looked down. "Or our kids, killed. It could be really dangerous to be around me! What if by falling in love with you it turns you into a target? I'm. . . I'm dangerous, Gin, and I don't know what to do."

Ginny stopped him and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, Harry, stop thinking that way. Instead, look at how blessed you are! You had some incredibly brave and wonderful parents, who loved you so much that they were willing to fight for you, and even die for you. And even though you had to live with those hideous people for a little bit, you got saved by the most amazing family, who love you and take care of you. And even better, they can teach you about being a Veela! What are the chances of that?

"It seems to me that you've got more than the normal amount of luck, or skill, or blessings from Merlin himself. And I'm greatly looking froward to spending the rest of my life with you, enjoying that incredible luck, and eventually making babies, okay? And it doesn't matter one whit if your name is Harry Delacour, or Harry Potter, or Morton Dowdman! Although I have to admit, I think Harry Potter Delacour just kind of has a nice ring to it."

Harry's heart had lightened more and more at Ginny's passionate speech. As she talked so happily about spending her life with him, he felt the little shadow over his heart, which had been there as long as he could remember, break up and float away. The girl he loved didn't care what his name was―she loved him for him!

They stood there together, as closely wrapped in each other's arms as possible, until their emotions had finally calmed down enough for them to think about anything else.

"So," Harry finally said, "my being Harry Potter doesn't make any difference to you at all?"

Ginny smirked at him. "Well, you have to admit, it's pretty cool for me to be able to say I'm dating the Boy-Who-Lived. And Luna's really excited about it too-she wants to ask you some questions about hunting moths, or something like that." She sobered a bit. "And, Harry? There are a whole lot of people who think you're dead. When the news broke about your name being crossed out of the _Register of Magical Children for England_ it made everyone believe that the Boy-Who-Lived had really died."

"But, Gin-"

"I'm not saying you have to come out and tell everyone whatever they want to know, Harry, but you might think about it-a lot of people would be very happy that you're really alive." She stopped for a bit, then continued, "Of course, when you didn't make it to Hogwarts, it meant a lot of things changed here, too. And that was mostly good, I think."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Like what?"

Ginny took his arm and they kept walking. "Well, you have to remember that I have six brothers, and five of them went to Hogwarts when Albus Dumbledore was the Headmaster. They tell me some of the horrible things that went on during that time. It makes me very happy to not have to deal with all the garbage that they had to.

"For example," Ginny continued, "the Potions Professor was this horribly mean git named Snape. He was also the head of Slytherin House, and always blatantly favored them. He'd take points off of Fred and George just for breathing too loudly. For some reason, Dumbledore had allowed him to stay in spite of all the people complaining about him. But when McGonagall became Headmistress, she apparently gave him probation, which he failed in about a week! So now we have Madame Arlington, who's really good. Strict, but good."

"Wow, I can't imagine having someone be such a git and still be able to teach. Madame Maxime makes all the teachers go through evaluation every year. She's really trying to make sure Beauxbatons is the premier magic school on the Continent. And if you ask me," he continued, with a lowered voice. "I think she wants to knock Hogwarts off the top of the list." He chuckled, and Ginny smiled, glad to have helped lighten his mood.

"And it's not just the teachers," she continued. "Percy mentions a few things that went on back when he was younger-things like the Slytherins always fighting with the Gryffindors, and there were even a few rumors of some of the older boys troubling some of the girls. I can imagine," she continued darkly, "that with Snape as their Head of House, it was probably looked at as being just normal boyish high spirits, or something stupid. But their new Head of House, Professor Moriarty-he teaches Muggle Studies-keeps them in line. In fact, they even expelled a few soon after he was hired on. I just wish they'd been able to get rid of that git Draco Malfoy, too!"

Harry noticed that Ginny's voice took on a dark undercurrent of rage when she said the name Malfoy, and wondered why, but decided that maybe now wouldn't be the best time to ask. "So," he asked, "things are a lot better, then?"

Ginny looked at him, then laughed. "Yeah, I'm making it sound like a wonderful place where everyone is happy all the time and the unicorns come out of the walls and cast rainbows out of their horns, aren't I?"

"Just a little bit, but then, I'd still believe you, Ginevra." As Harry said this, he lowered his voice, and turned to look at his Mate. He turned her to face him more fully, and her laughter faded off as she saw the look in his eyes. "Ginevra, I promise you that I'll never lie to you. You may ask me anything you want, and I'll answer as truthfully as I am able. I'm sorry that you had to find out about my name, and my nature like you did, but I will do my best to make sure you know everything you need to. I swear this to you, on my love." And saying this, he pressed her gently up against the tree they had been passing, and lowered his head, and kissed her.

oooooooooo

Hermione was very grateful that she didn't have classes that morning. Having stayed up practically all night with Luna and Ginny threw off her schedule something awful. After Ginny and Harry had left from breakfast, Hermione finished hers and left the table, not even noticing when Luna fell into step beside her.

After walking for a few minutes, Hermione was startled out of her uncharacteristic brain fog by Luna.

"Hermione, what are you going to do about Neville?"

Hermione turned abruptly to the blond girl. "Luna! I didn't know you were there. I'm so sorry, I'm just so tired I don't know where I am, or what I'm doing. It's just-wait, what did you ask?"

Luna smiled serenely at her friend. "It's okay, Hermione. I know you're not used to getting by on very little sleep. I'm a little out of the habit too. In fact, I may even take a nap when we get back to the tower. Would you mind if I came and used Ginny's bed? I think mine might have dormmice. I plan on having the elves check for them tomorrow. As you know, they can only be moved on Sundays."

Hermione shook her head. "Luna, don't you mean dormice?"

"No. Why? Do you think we have dormice, too? Oooh, I hadn't even thought of that. I wonder if they're related. . ."

"Luna, I'm sorry, I'm just really tired. What were you asking me?" Hermione could usually keep up with Luna, but today wasn't a very good day for it.

"Oh, I was just wondering if you've decided what you're going to do with Neville."

Hermione started sputtering something about not understanding, but Luna continued on, ruthlessly. "I was just asking because if you're going to wait until next year to officially date him, then I was thinking of asking him to sit by me at the first Quidditch game."

Hermione stopped, stunned in the middle of the floor. "But. . . you're. . . but. . . "

"Hermione, I don't talk about yours, why are you talking about mine?" Luna asked gently, then continued walking. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll tell you what he says when I get the chance to ask him."

There was nothing that could have gotten a bigger reaction out of Hermione than hearing that Luna was going to try to ask Neville out. She ran-actually _ran_ to catch up to the blond girl, and grabbed her arm.

"Luna, please let's go talk about this somewhere. Please?"

Luna looked at her friend quietly. "Okay, Hermione. Is there somewhere you'd rather go than your room?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, that would be okay. Just, please, if you see Neville on the way, don't ask him out yet, okay?"

Luna smiled. "Okay, Hermione. Let's go get changed and we can have a slumber party!"

"But, it's not. . . nighttime. . . Why not? Let's go have a slumber party!"

oooooooooo

Thankfully, Neville wasn't encountered on their way up the to Ravenclaw dorms, so soon both girls were dressed in their pajamas and comfortably ensconced in Hermione's bed.

"Okay, Luna, let's talk about Neville, all right?"

Luna looked puzzled. "Well, of course! The first thing girls do at a slumber party is discuss boys, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Luna. I've never had a slumber party."

"Oh," Luna responded. "But I thought you'd gone and stayed at the Burrow before. I certainly would have if I'd been invited. Did you not want to go because Ronald was going to be there? He certainly does seem to be infested with headhogs, doesn't he?"

Hermione shook her head. Her initial burst of panic had faded, and her brain was back to feeling fuzzy. "I'm sorry, Luna. We will have to remember to have you over. But can we just talk about Neville? I don't think I'm up for talk about any other boy than him. Now, I didn't think you were interested in Neville. Have you changed your mind?"

Luna shook her head. "No, Hermione. That's silly! I just think he's a really nice boy, and I don't think he'd make fun of me for asking him. And if you're not going to claim him, then I thought he might want to sit with me." She thought for a moment. "Oh, but you could sit with us, too. Yes, that might be best."

Hermione sat back in despair. "But, Luna. I _do_ like Neville. And I really do want to date him." She sighed. "He even asked me to come out to the greenhouses to check on his plants with him. But he didn't ask me to be his girlfriend then, and I was so disappointed." She looked up at Luna. "Do you think I should ask him if he wants to be my boyfriend?"

Luna smiled. She absolutely loved it when her plans worked out so well. "Well, I guess it's the only way, then. Do you want me to wait to ask Neville to the game until after you ask him?"

"Well, of course," Hermione answered peevishly.

"Okay, I was just wondering. Maybe he wouldn't mind if I came with you two anyway. Would that be all right?" She didn't even hear Hermione's answer as she continued. "Although maybe I could sit with Josette. She's got some absolutely wonderful ideas about man-in-the-moon marigolds." She was silent for another minute. "Well, good-night, Hermione!" she chirped cheerfully, and, lying down, instantly fell asleep.

Hermione smiled softly. Luna was a wonderful girl, though sometimes it took a while to figure out where she was going. But she always got there in the end, and usually had some good advice along the way. It certainly wouldn't hurt to talk to Neville at lunch, assuming they both awoke in time, to make sure that they were in agreement on the next game.

But for right now, her bed was feeling awfully comfortable, in spite of Luna's feet lying on her pillow.

oooooooo

Tex wasn't used to this feeling. He, Harry and Josette had been almost inseparable ever since they'd met during first year at Beauxbatons. They'd done just about everything together (going to the loo was definitely _not_ included). And he had thought that this would continue for the foreseeable future. He'd had it planned out rather well. Harry hadn't ever been interested in girls, so he knew that Harry would always be around. And Tex being rather shy, was happy being a part of their little group. And Josette was, well, pretty much perfect, in his opinion.

As long as they were together, Tex knew nothing bad could happen. They'd gotten into quite a few . . . _situations_ . . . over the years, but had always come through unscathed.

But now Harry was acting all. . . all. . . well, _twitter-pated_ was the only thing he could think of to describe him. Tex didn't begrudge Harry his chance at happiness, and was actually growing rather fond of the Weasley girl. But he couldn't help feeling a little out-of-sorts when it came to the changed friendship dynamic.

As Tex was sitting there thinking in the student lounge, though, Josette came merrily out of her room, saw him there, and walked over and sat on his lap.

"Good morning!" she announced, and kissed him.

Tex found himself floating blissfully on some lovely clouds. In all his worries over the changes in their group, he hadn't realized that with everyone seemingly pairing off, he would have more time with his new girlfriend. And then he stopped thinking altogether, as his attention was fully occupied in kissing the girl in his arms.

Eventually they came up for air, and Josette turned so she could sit sideways in Tex's lap. He thought she was going to want to talk to him, but she just snuggled up more closely and closed her eyes. The silence grew longer and longer, but Tex was afraid to break it lest he make some mistake and upset Josette.

Fleur Delacour walked in some time later, and saw the couple sitting in one of the armchairs. She had a pretty good relationship with her brother's best friends, so she walked over to greet them.

"Hi, Tex. How are you doing?" she asked.

Tex smiled and whispered, "I don't know right now. I asked Josie to be my girlfriend, but I've never really had one before. I'm scared that I might do something wrong and make her so upset with me that she'll dump me."

Fleur smiled at him, and took a seat. "Oh, Tex. You're just like everyone else, then. No one really knows how to handle relationships, especially their first. Everyone has those same worries, no? I remember the first boy that I dated-I was so surprised that he had asked me to go out with him that I blushed and didn't even answer. Thankfully he just asked again. But you know, I was just as worried that I would scare him off too.

"You know about the Veela Allure, right? Well, I was very afraid that the only reason he was interested in me was because of the Allure. So I worked really hard to be a good, nice little girlfriend to him, and to not hit him with my Allure all the time. But eventually he sat me down and told me that while he thought I was nice, he felt we'd be better off seeing other people."

Tex just gaped at the Veela girl. "But. . . but how could he dump you if it was the Allure keeping him there? Couldn't you have just, I don't know, hit him with another shot of it?"

Fleur smiled sadly. "I said that I _thought _it was the Allure, but really he wanted to get to know me better because he thought I was funny. The Allure had nothing to do with it after all."

"Then why did he dump you?"

"Because I had lost all my personality in trying too hard to please him. He wanted to get to know me, but he ended up going out with a little doll who had no personality to speak of."

"Did he tell you that? I mean, how did you find out?"

"The next year, when we went back to school, I happened to sit with him one day during lunch. He had a different girlfriend by then, one who was happy, and loud, and occasionally very fiery. They talked and argued and laughed, and they looked so happy together. I asked him what had gone wrong in our relationship, and he kind of explained things to me. It was really an eye-opener for me. Since then I've tried really hard to take that lesson to heart, and I've been a lot happier for it. Think about it, Tex. If you change your personality to please someone else, then what is the relationship built on?"

Tex sat in silence for a bit, pondering Fleur's question. His face showed he was deep in thought, but as Fleur watched, the confusion cleared. He looked back at her and said, "It's only based on false image then, isn't it?"

Fleur just nodded.

"She's right, you know," came a soft voice from the area of Tex's chest. "I like you because of who you are, not who you think I want you to be."

Tex looked down at Josette with new eyes. "Thank you, Josie, and thank you, Fleur," he continued, looking up at her.

Fleur smiled back at the couple and patted Tex on the knee. "You'll do fine, I think. Now," she said as she stood up. "I think I need to go get to know my future sister-in-law. Any idea where they are?"

Tex shook his head, but Josette answered. "I think I saw them walking around the lake this morning."

Fleur thanked her, and left the carriage.

"How did you see them, Josie? You haven't left the carriage this morning, have you?"

"Oh, I looked out the window as I was getting dressed. I wanted to know exactly what kind of dismal English weather we were in for today. Harry and Ginny were walking together that way. I hope Fleur finds them-I think Ginny's perfect for Harry, and Fleur and she are going to need to be friends." She turned and looked Tex deeply in the eye. "But right now, I want to go for a walk with my boyfriend. I hear there are some beautiful tapestries in the seventh floor corridors that Luna thinks we should see."

Tex looked at her in confusion. "Um, okay, I guess. If you really want to, I don't mind going with you."

Josette shook her head. "Ah, men. They can be so oblivious." She kissed Tex lightly and said, "Luna also told me that the seventh floor is usually unoccupied, especially on a Saturday. And there are lots of dark nooks and crannies we can hide in."

Tex looked at her blankly, then finally caught on. He laughed and stood up, taking Josette with him. "Well, then, let's get going!"

The sound of their mingled laughter followed them out the door.

oooooooooo

A/N: The name "Morton Dowdman" is sassyfrass_kerr's. It just fit so well I had to borrow it.


	15. Sisterly Conversations

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 15, **Sisterly Conversations**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames haughtily ignored. And, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr, without whom the sun wouldn't shine, the stars wouldn't twinkle, and my life would be much emptier.

oooooooooo

"Harry!" came the melodious sound of his sister's voice. Harry didn't notice it.

"Harry!" came the voice again, slightly louder and less melodious. Harry filed it away in the back of his mind for later attention.

"GINNY!" came Fleur's yell, from about two feet away.

Ginny jumped in surprise, which meant that Harry ended up on the ground, holding his nose.

"Ouch!" he yelled, then looked up into the snickering face of his elder sister. "What'd you do that for?"

Fleur just grinned unrepentantly. "Well, I was hoping to help your girlfriend―she looked like she had a suckerfish attached to her face."

Ginny giggled at that, in spite of the bright red blush and swollen lips that she was sporting.

Harry shot a glare at his sister, then laboriously climbed to his feet. "Fine, Fleur, you found us. What did you want?"

"Well, I was just thinking. . . I mean, it's pretty obvious that Ginny's your Mate, right?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah, she is," he mumbled.

Ginny's blush grew darker, but she couldn't hide the happiness that suffused her at the idea.

"Well then," Fleur continued. "I thought maybe she and I should talk a bit about what that means. Do you have a problem with that, Harry?"

"Why, Fleur? I've told her everything about it already!"

Fleur just smiled. "Really? So you've told her all about the constant state of arousal she's going to experience around you, and how her menstrual cycle-"

"Eww! No! Yuck! Fleur, that's just. . . bleaugh! Stop making things up, okay?" Harry was petrified that Ginny would be scared off by the candid, and hopefully invented, images that Fleur was sharing. But one look at the redhead, who was currently laughing so hard she couldn't stand straight, and he knew he'd been beaten. "Fine! Okay, I get it. You want to talk to her without me around." He shuddered again. "Just, just go, okay? No! I mean I'll go, you can stay! Ginny, I'll see you later, all right?" He tried to give her a kiss, but she was still laughing too hard, so he settled for a peck on the cheek, and walked off irritably.

Ginny laughed a little more, then looked at the blond girl. "Is there really something I need to know about my cycle?" she asked, hoping the answer was a firm negative.

Fleur smiled and shook her head. "No. I just said that to scare Harry off." She stopped, then looked at Ginny thoughtfully. "Although, I should point out that the other thing I mentioned-"

"You mean the, what did you say? Ah, yes. The 'constant state of arousal'. That was true?"

Fleur smiled and asked, "Was I wrong?"

Ginny blushed again, shook her head quickly, and tried to change the subject. "So, um, how are you, Fleur?"

Fleur laughed, linked arms with Ginny, and started to walk. "I'm fine, Ginny. But I really do need to talk to you about some of the things you'll need to understand about Veela, okay?"

Ginny nodded her head, and the pair walked along, discussing what the younger girl would need to know about being the Mate of a Veela, and as they talked, Ginny grew more and more appreciative of the possibility of marrying her Harry soon.

"Although," Fleur interjected, "you might have to come get married in France-the British are not nearly so enlightened as we French are about the Veela. I think it's part of their culture of stiff-upper-lippedness."

"Is that even a word?" Ginny giggled. "I don't think I've ever heard that before."

Fleur swatted her on the shoulder. "Then we have invented it. And will charge royalties."

The two girls laughed, and continued their walk.

Ginny was rather grateful for the discussion, even the parts that embarrassed her. Fleur had turned out to be the perfect person to learn these things from. She wasn't overbearing, as her own mother would have been, full of platitudes and cautions and "we never did that when I was a child" exhortations. Instead Ginny found herself growing to really adore Fleur as the older sister she'd never had. She'd always wanted an older sister, someone who was close to her age, old enough to have had experiences, but young enough to not be too set in her ways.

Their discussion took them most of the time left until lunch, and they found themselves hurrying back to the Great Hall to meet their friends for the noon meal. It was at this time that Fleur brought up the last few of the Veela traits that, in her opinion, were less important.

"Oh, you'll also notice that Harry is rather sensitive to strong smells. He casts a charm every morning to kind of deaden his olfactory sense, but he still has a rather sensitive nose. You'll want to be careful to not wear too strong a perfume around him."

"Oh, I don't wear strong scents―I'm kind of hypersensitive to smells too. They can give me a horrendous headache. Ooh! Maybe you could teach me that charm! My mum and I tried to figure out what we could do, since I've always been like this, but the most we found was a charm to make everything smell like roses. It helps, but I can't tell you how much I'm tired of the _delicate aroma of the noble flower_!"

Fleur giggled. "Yes, roses can be rather strong. I like the soft smell of the passiflora myself. But anyway, the spell's pretty easy, but not used very much outside of the Veela."

"Thank you!" Ginny effused. Then she wrinkled her nose in thought. "I wonder if my shampoo is too strong. Mum makes it from freesia blossoms . . . He's never mentioned it, but maybe he's just being polite?" she half-questioned.

Fleur leaned closer to the girl and took an experimental sniff. "No, Ginny, that should be fine. I've got the charm on me, and you smell just fine. The best thing you can do is to ask him. Tell him that you and I talked about this, and that you want him to be honest-that should work just fine."

"Well, we're almost to the Great Hall―is there anything else?" Ginny asked, anxious to get in to see her Harry.

"Oh, well, the one thing I haven't talked about is something you probably won't need to worry about until you have children. Harry's never shown this trait, so it's possible that he's just a carrier, rather than being able to do it himself."

Ginny's response was a puzzled look. "Um, what do you mean by a _carrier? _Like an owl?"

Fleur snorted a laugh, then apologized. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I don't mean to laugh at you. It's just the sad state of wizarding knowledge in England. . . . well, anyway, the Muggles have done all sorts of scientific experiments about how certain characteristics are passed down from parents to children. Sometimes the parent doesn't show a trait, but the child will. This one doesn't usually happen like that, and it's always possible that Harry will start to manifest it later, although it should have shown up by now. But anyway," she hastened to finish, as they were just about to the front doors of Hogwarts. "Most Veela can cast these incredibly hot fireballs―they'll burn just about anything, and are one of our main defenses. At home we have this room called the. . ." her voice trailed off as she noticed that Ginny wasn't by her anymore. She looked back and saw the redhead standing, stricken dumb and staring at her.

"Ginny, what's the matter? Are you okay?" she asked, hurrying back to her new friend.

"Fire. . . fireballs?" Ginny asked, in a rather weak voice.

"Yeah, why? Is that a problem?" Fleur asked, wondering if she was going to have to take the girl to the hospital wing.

"It's just that I. . . I can cast fireballs too. Mum made me practice and practice and practice until I wouldn't do it accidentally, but I can still do it if I need to." Ginny's voice was rather faint, and all the blood seemed to have drained from her face. The way she was quivering, it looked like she was going to pass out at any moment.

Fleur stood there, shocked. "You're a . . . you're a Veela?" she gasped. Questions flooded her head, and she felt as if she, too, were going to faint.

"I didn't . . . I couldn't be, could I?" Ginny asked. "But, but I . . ." and with that she really did faint.

Fleur was just fast enough to catch her and lower her to the ground. Thinking as quickly as she could through the maelstrom of images in her brain, she pulled her wand and cast her Patronus. Giving it strict instructions, she sent it into the Great Hall and sat down to wait.

oooooooooo

Harry was just settling into his seat for lunch, hoping that Fleur would bring Ginny back soon. Tex and Josette were seated opposite him, and he was happy to see that they had obviously talked about their relationship, as they were back to their normal happy selves, just now attached at the hands. Hermione wasn't with them, surprisingly, but Luna was, which made Harry happy. He liked the blond girl, and loved to see her off-kilter sense of humor at work. It didn't hurt that Josette and she had gotten on like a house on fire.

But as he was waiting for the food to appear, a glowing white eagle flew through the walls and landed on the table in front of him. He immediately sat up and listened.

"Harry," came a dim echo of Fleur's voice. "I need you out on the front steps. Family Emergency."

Harry jumped up as fast as he could, just about stumbling as he climbed over the bench, and took off at a sprint towards the doors to the Great Hall. Tex and Josette looked at each other, then followed as fast as they could, although they were hampered by being in-between the Ravenclaw table and the Slytherin one. Luna looked around dreamily, then arose and walked over to where Hermione and Neville were seated at the Hufflepuff table.

"Hermione, Neville. I think we need to go to the front doors. Harry's family needs us." She turned and walked away before they could ask her any questions.

Hermione immediately jumped up and started walking, and Neville wasn't too far behind. When they made it out to the front steps, they saw a very pale Ginny lying on the ground, eyes closed, and Harry and Fleur in a very heated conversation. Tex and Josette were listening in with pale faces themselves.

The three other Hogwarts students stood next to the group, slightly uncomfortable, as their French wasn't nearly good enough to catch what was going on, but eager to show their willingness to help in any way possible.

Finally Harry stood up, holding Ginny bridal-style in his arms, and started towards the Hospital Wing. The rest of his family and friends followed along behind. Hermione was, of course, trying to find out from Fleur what had happened. Josette noticed this and tugged Hermione back from the flustered Veela.

"Hermione, stop bothering Fleur―she's a little bit overstressed at the moment. Come back here and I'll tell you what I can, okay?"

Hermione nodded and backed up to walk with Josette and Tex. "What happened to Ginny? Is she hurt? Did Fleur do something to her? How did Harry know to go out to her? What about-"

Josette held up her hand. "Hermione!" she said forcefully. "Hold on. If you'll stop asking questions, I'll try to explain."

Hermione nodded, abashed, and Josette continued. "Okay, from what I can tell, Ginny found out something really surprising, and fainted because of it. Fleur sent a Patronus to Harry to tell him to come out―it was really pretty. Did you know that most Patroni of Veela are birds?" She shook her head. "Sorry, back to the story. Anyway, Fleur kept asking Harry if he had known about Ginny, but he said he didn't. No," she rushed to say, before Hermione could get the question out. "I don't know what that was about. But it was as if she, Ginny that is, was something special. Harry was rather upset at Fleur at first, but she convinced him that she hadn't done anything to Ginny. They're going to take her to the Hospital Wing, and Fleur was saying something about calling their parents. Now, what can you tell us about Ginny? Is she something strange, or does she have an illness or something that would cause her to faint?"

Tex whispered something in Josette's ear. "Oh, and do you know any of Ginny's family that we should tell?"

Hermione nodded quickly, then thought for a bit. "She's got three brothers here, but you should probably tell George or Fred―they're the identical twins, and they're a little bit more level-headed than Ronald is. They should still be in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table. They'll probably be sitting together, with a black girl―her name's Angelina, and a black boy named Lee."

Josette nodded to Tex, and he peeled off to go back to fetch one of the aforementioned brothers. Once he was gone, Josette looked back to Hermione. "Can you think of anything about Ginny that might explain this?"

Hermione thought about this for a bit, then said, "Well, I know she was adopted when she was very young. She said she didn't know her birth parents or anything like that. I know that we were going to try to find out, but we didn't have a lot of luck during first year, and we kind of gave up on that. Um, I can't think of anything else, except. . . no, that's not important."

"What is it, Hermione?" Neville asked, startling her a bit as she hadn't remembered that he was there.

"Oh, just that she'd mentioned this year that she was getting tired of all the boys wanting to be with her, and that she'd never really felt any attraction for any boy. But then she met Harry and fell in love. But that's just because Harry's a Veela, and they're Mates, right? It wouldn't be anything too surprising for Ginny―she already knew before she went walking with Fleur!"

Josette pursed her lips. "No, it probably wasn't that, then. I don't know. Maybe Fleur helped her figure out who her parents were, or something." She chuckled a bit, and Hermione looked a question at her. "Oh, I just think it's kind of funny, you know? Not funny humorous, but kind of strange. Harry's adopted too―he doesn't really talk about his birth parents very much. . ."

Hermione stopped in shock. "You don't know?" she just about shrieked.

Josette, Tex, and Neville stopped too. "Know what?" they all asked at the same time.

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth. _Oh no!_ she thought. "Um, well, I don't think I'm the right person to tell you. Uh, you should probably ask Harry about it. All I can say is that Ginny found out Harry's real parents last night. But that can't be it."

Luna chimed in at that moment. "I don't think it's Harry's name that surprised Ginny so much. I think she found out who she was."

The rest of them turned to Luna, but she just smiled and skipped up to walk closer to Fleur, Harry, and Ginny.

oooooooooo

Madame Pomfrey, hearing their arrival, emerged from her office and directed Harry to lay Ginny down on one of the beds. She pulled out her wand and quickly ran some diagnostic spells over the girl, and studied the multi-colored ribbons that resulted. "Hmmm. She seems to be fine; there's no sign of injury or any illness. Can someone tell me what happened?"

Fleur looked at Harry, then back to the matron. "We were just talking about some things. You know, about Harry being a Veela and all-"

"You're a Veela?" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed. "Really? I don't know that we've ever had a male Veela here before. The last Veela that we had here before Miss Weasley was Lily Evans―well, what I mean is that she had some Veela blood in her, although it never manifested itself in any way. This is extraordinary! May I run some diagnoses on you, Mr. . . .?"

"Delacour," Harry said, faintly. He shook his head. "Hold on, you knew Ginny was a Veela?"

Taken aback at the sharpness of his tone, the matron nodded. "Well, of course! I give all incoming students a complete physical. It's standard practice. Well, it is now. The Headmistress felt that it would be good to check for things like good nutrition, and, unfortunately, signs of abuse, in all the incoming students. We can take steps to fix many problems that are found that early, and it's made for a much less disease-prone student body."

"But Ginny didn't know she was a Veela! Don't you tell the students what you find?" Fleur asked.

"Well, I usually do. I'm not sure why I didn't tell Miss Weasley. Usually students that come from a magical family are very aware of any, um, abnormalities in their physical makeup." She thought for a bit. "And I really should have said something―I mean, none of the other Weasleys shows any sort of Veela nature, so she must have gotten some sort of magical inheritance from-"

Madame Pomfrey was interrupted by Hermione. "Madame Pomfrey, surely you knew Ginny was adopted, didn't you?"

The effect this revelation had on the group, or at least, on three members of the group, would have been comical had it been any less serious. Madame Pomfrey was surprised, but not horrendously so. To her, it was just confirmation of what she had suspected―that Ginny had come through a somewhat different magical bloodline. And she assumed that the Weasleys had done a magical adoption, which explained the red hair and freckles. And the fierce temper.

Harry and Fleur, on the other hand, were shocked into incoherence. They both sank down onto the bed next to Ginny's, and turned to look at each other. Their faces were a study of confusion, and hope, and surprise. Could this mean. . .?

Fleur whispered, very softly, and only to Harry, "Madeline?"

Harry shrugged, but nodded slightly at the possibility, and the siblings threw their arms around each other and cried.


	16. Including The Gratuitous Veela

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 16, **Including**** The**** Gratuitous**** Veela ****At ****The**** Cup****, ****How**** Many**** Veela**** Were**** There****?**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**A****/****N****:** Kind of a longer author's note today, to kind of explain the horrendously long wait for this chapter. Anyway, I had written a great chapter (I thought) and it all flowed relatively well. But then I gave it to my betas, and they just about choked. They ripped it apart, and it looked as if they had bled all over the place (although the purple ink wasn't quite a match for rosiekatriona's blood). So, we sat down and discussed it, and figured out that for the entire second half of the chapter, my characters were being wrong. Or, perhaps WRONG! So, I ripped out the second half, rewrote the (now) ending, and we all think it works much better. So, major props to rosiekatriona and sassyfrass_kerr for smacking my characters around and making them behave correctly. Also, please note that an eagle-eyed reader caught the continuity issue in chapters 12 and 15, where Hermione didn't go to the Quidditch World Cup, but then remembered the Veela from said Cup. That's fixed now. So, um, without any further blather, read on!

oooooooooo

When Ginny recovered from her faint, she found herself in the Hospital Wing, which she loathed, and looking into Harry's face, which she loved. "Hey there," she whispered softly, and his face broke into a rather tearful smile.

"Hi, Ginevra," he said, although his voice quavered a bit on her name. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, a little more strongly.

"Yeah," she said, and made to sit up.

Harry helped lift her, over her mild protests, and then sat down on the foot of her bed. This was much too far away for Ginny, so she leaned forward and grabbed his hand.

"Come here, you. I just had a very trying experience, and I need my Mate to hold me."

Harry smiled, and allowed her to drag him over to where she was seated. Once she had him positioned where she wanted him, she climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around herself. "Ah," she said. "Much better!"

Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair.

They sat there for some minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet, until finally Harry sighed. "Ginevra, can you tell me why you fainted?"

Ginny twisted in his arms to look up at him. "Didn't Fleur tell you? I mean, I assume she got you to come help her somehow, right?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "But I wanted to hear your side of it."

"Okay," she agreed. "But you have to hold on to me, okay?"

"All right," Harry answered, with a concerned look. "I'm sorry it was so horrible."

"It wasn't really that bad. But it's been awhile since we've had some quality time together. And if we tell Madame Pomfrey that you were helping me be strong enough to share everything with you, then she'll be less likely to throw you out of my bed."

Harry laughed at this and squeezed her even tighter, greatly enjoying the sigh of pleasure she let out at his hug.

"Well, Fleur and I talked about quite a few things that you didn't tell me. You know, menstrual cycles-"

"Eww! Please tell me you're joking!" Harry begged.

Ginny giggled. "Well, mostly. I mean, having a Mate means quite a few things for a girl, one of which is that her cycle will even out and become extremely predictable. But there were a lot of other things that she had to tell me about your being a Veela." Her voice got much more serious then, as she continued. "And it was okay. I mean, I was really apprehensive, you know? But it wasn't anything like I was fearing. I mean, it's not like Veela are that different than humans, right? And it's not like I'm going to stop loving you just because you are slightly different than I am. And there were some really good things too. I mean, did you know that we can get married as soon as we want to now?"

Harry nodded, a shy smile gracing his face.

Ginny relaxed back against his chest more and pulled his arms tighter around her. "But then we started talking about me, about my sense of smell, and my throwing fireballs, and I realized that, in all likelihood, I'm a Veela too. And all of those things that I'd heard about in the abstract were now, suddenly, extremely concrete, and applied to me, too. I mean, two Veelas, who just happen to be Mated to each other. What are the odds of that?

"It's funny, isn't it?" Ginny continued. "I'd always wondered about my birth family, and where they were, and we tried really hard to find out, at first. But now I find out that I am this mythical Allure-spewing, fireball-throwing, super-smelling bird-creature! Not that there's anything wrong with that―it was just a little overwhelming." She stopped for a bit, then continued. "And I passed out. Right in front of your sister. She probably thinks I'm this total nut-job, now, and I was just starting to like her! I was looking forward to finally having a big sister! Well, big sister-in-law, at least. And I wanted to meet Gabrielle, and your parents, and make a good impression. And now that's all messed up."

Harry quietly held her throughout her rant, until she finally calmed down. At last, when she had fallen silent, he responded. "Ginny, my love. It's okay. I promise you that Fleur isn't going to like you any less. In fact, I think she'll probably love you all the more for everything that you've gone through and found out about yourself."

Ginny sniffed a bit and looked up at him as best she could. "Really? You're not just saying that, are you?" She looked around a bit. "And where is she, anyway? I would've thought she'd be here too."

"Oh, um, well, she went to call our parents."

Ginny gasped in horror. "I have to meet them now? Harry, how could you do this to me? I'm not ready to meet my future parents-in-law!" She started struggling to get out of his arms, but he just held on.

"Ginny, Ginny, calm down. There's something else that I need to tell you."

"What? That my parents are coming too? That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it?"

Silence.

"Harry, please tell me my parents aren't coming?"

More silence, except for a pair of noisy crickets.

"Oh, pants! This is just perfect. I have to tell my parents that I've met the guy I'm going to marry, and meet my new in-laws, and all of this right after I get taken to the Infirmary for fainting. Just kill me now," and she bowed her head in defeat.

"No, Ginevra. No, stop it! Ginny! It's not what you're thinking, okay?" Harry tried to get her to look up again. "Please, Ginny, just look at me."

Finally Ginny looked up again. "Fine. I'll do it. But how can you say it's not what I'm thinking, huh?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, um, you see, there's something else you need to know about my family, okay?"

"What? You're the bloody King of England?"

"No, although Mum and Dad are rather high up in the Veela ranks. . ."

Ginny's slap on his arm told him he'd better get on with it.

"Okay. Um, the thing is that my parents have another daughter."

Ginny gasped. "That's right, you mentioned that. But we got distracted. You said that they'd lost her. What did she die of?"

Harry looked sad. "The thing is, Madeline didn't die. Or at least, that wasn't why she was lost. She was kidnapped."

Ginny turned and looked at him in horror. "Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. That must have been awful!"

"I'm sure it was," he continued. "But it was kind of good for me. You know I was adopted, right? Well, Mum and Dad were searching for their little girl when they found me. After she had been kidnapped, Mum and Dad had waited for someone to come forward and, I don't know, demand a ransom or blackmail them, or something, but they hadn't heard anything about her. Not a single clue or anything. Just. . . just nothing. And they were so desperate that they were going door-to-door in neighborhoods where magic had been sensed. When they found me, they had been looking for a long time and were completely heartbroken over having lost their daughter.

"Anyway, they found me and they decided to take me back home with them, and try to make a life with just Fleur and me. They never gave up hoping, but the detective agencies they'd hired never found anything out for them. Over the years they became resigned to their loss, but they still missed their Madeline."

Ginny had listened to this with a heavy heart. "Oh, how horrible, Harry. To just lose someone like that, and never know what happened to her. No closure, or anything like that. I'm so sorry for them," and Harry noticed that she had tears falling slowly from her eyes.

"Thank you, Ginny. I think they'd appreciate your sympathy. But I have a little bit more to tell you about her, if that's okay."

Ginny nodded and wiped her eyes.

"Well, we worked out the dates and ages, and we―that is, Fleur and I―think that, and we don't know for sure, but it looks to be a rather strong possibility that. . ."

"That what, Harry?"

"Well, that your real name is Madeline Delacour."

oooooooooo

Pierre and Giselle Delacour were sitting in their living room taking a break from their labors. Well, "labors" might have been a little too dignified a word to describe their previous activities, but Gabrielle had come home from her play-date, and, by so doing, had interrupted her parents' alone time, so the three members of the family were just sitting and chatting.

Their convivial gathering was put on hold when Fleur's voice came from the Floo in the parlor. "Mama! Papa! Come here, quickly!"

The parents looked at each other, then rushed into the other room, closely followed by Gabrielle. Their 17-year old daughter rarely sounded so distressed, and they were worried that something incredibly horrible had happened. When they arrived at the Floo, they were happy to see that Fleur wasn't hurt, or bleeding, or crying. Or was she? Those looked like tears. . .

"Cherie! What has happened?" Giselle asked as she leaned down to talk to her daughter.

Fleur tried―she really did. She had wanted to prepare her parents slowly and carefully, but all the pent-up emotion from all the years spilled out of her at once. "We've found Madeline!"

Giselle was literally floored. She fell backwards and ended up legs spread, hands barely supporting her in her shock.

Pierre threw himself on the floor next to the Floo, not even noticing the damage the knees of his trousers sustained. "Fleur, are you sure? Please be sure. Where is she? Can we see her? How did you find her?"

Fleur reached a hand through the Floo. "Papa. She's here at Hogwarts. It's a long story. Can you and Mama come? And Gabi? I've asked the Headmistress for permission, and if you can come through we can go see her and make sure!"

Pierre looked at his wife, who was nodding, tears in her eyes, and agreed. "Fleur, what's the Floo address?"

"Headmistress's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Okay, we'll be right there."

Fleur's head left the fireplace, and Pierre jumped up. "Peti!" The little house-elf appeared with a 'pop'. "Please pack a trunk for Giselle, Gabrielle, and me. We'll be gone for a couple of days. When it's ready, please make sure it reaches us at Hogwarts. Please take care of everything while we're gone."

The little house-elf nodded, then shyly asked, "Is it being true, sir? Has Mistress Madeline really been found?"

"I hope so, Peti. I really do. We'll try to let you know as soon as we find out."

Giselle had, by then, picked herself up and gathered Gabrielle in her arms. "Gabrielle, hold tight, okay? We're going to go visit Fleur and Harry for a couple of days."

Gabrielle just nodded. She was a little overwhelmed with all the activity, and somewhat distressed by her parents' actions. And, she had to admit, somewhat jealous that she hadn't gotten to finish telling her parents about playing unicorns and dragons. But she had overheard something about Madeline, and, although she was dying to ask questions, her parents were in such a dither that it was obvious that now wasn't the right time to do so. And, legendary missing sister or not, she sure wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to visit her beloved older brother and sister.

Giselle and Gabrielle Flooed first, and Pierre followed as soon as the flames died back down.

Meanwhile, Molly Weasley was on her Floo, contacting Arthur at the Ministry. "I don't care what kind of meeting he's in, Perkins. Just get him down here right now!"

Sebastian Perkins was a quiet man. He really liked his job, and he and Arthur Weasley worked very well together, as Arthur was the only person in the Ministry who equalled Perkins' love for Muggles and their wonderful inventions. And, being such a quiet man, Perkins was completely overwhelmed by the vociferous demands of the Weasley matriarch. Stronger men than he would have caved completely. So he ran out of his office, down to the next floor where Arthur was heading up a meeting on "The Whys and Wherefores of Elektrickery", and burst through the door.

"Arthur! Your wife! And Hogwarts! And. . . and what is that?" Perkins hadn't been able to come to the meeting-one of his pet projects was going through a rather delicate stage, and it needed babysitting. Of course, Molly's request had taken Perkins' mind off of everything, so his sea monkeys were probably not going to turn out. But the opportunity to see a working whatever-it-was temporarily (and ironically) short-circuited his brain.

Thankfully, Arthur was more in-tune with Molly's quirks. "Molly Flooed?" he asked quickly, and at Perkins' rather distracted nod, he quickly flipped the off-switch on the whatever-it-was and hurried back to his office.

Molly's head was still in the Floo when Arthur arrived. Throwing himself to his knees, he gasped, "What is it, dear?"

"I don't know exactly, Arthur. Minerva just Flooed and asked that we get to Hogwarts as soon as possible-something's happened to Ginny!"

Arthur's face paled dramatically. The last time they'd received a similar summons, they had found out that their daughter, their only daughter, had found an enchanted diary. He hoped that this time it wasn't as potentially devastating.

Arthur hastily scribbled a note to Perkins stating that he was taking the rest of the day off for a family emergency, then grabbed some Floo powder and jumped into the fire, shouting "The Burrow!" The trip didn't take too long, and Arthur took what time he had to be thankful for being a department Head, allowing him a Floo connection in his office. There was no telling how upset Molly would have been had Arthur had to go to the Atrium and use one of the public Floos.

"What's wrong with Ginny?" he asked as soon as he arrived in the Burrow.

"I don't know, Arthur. Minerva just said that there was a family emergency concerning Ginny, that no-one was hurt, and that you and I should to come at once."

Arthur's shoulders relaxed a bit at the 'no-one was hurt' part, but then his mind started throwing out all kinds of reasons for a family emergency in which no one was, technically, 'hurt'. After all that their children had done while at school, the Headmistress's reassurance didn't really calm him down very much.

oooooooooo

The Headmistress's office was feeling a slight bit claustrophobic. Four Delacours were there, along with Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Flitwick and Madame Maxime. When Arthur and Molly Flooed in and added their physical presence, not to mention the fact that Molly always seemed a little larger-than-life, even when she wasn't in a frenzy over one of her children, the usually-large-enough room seemed to shrink to Lilliputian dimensions.

Casting a quick Sonorus on herself, the Headmistress requested, "May I have your attention, please?"

Successfully gaining some measure of quiet in the room, Headmistress McGongall motioned to the chairs she had conjured for the participants. "If you would please find a seat, we can discuss what has been happening here at Hogwarts."

After everyone had found a seat, Molly burst out, "Are my children all right? They haven't found any more. . . _things_ have they?"

Headmistress McGonagall smiled at the Weasley mother. "Yes, Molly, they're just fine. No-one has been injured, nor really even inconvenienced." Looking back at the larger group, she sighed and wondered just how much the recent happenings would disturb the happy families. "First, let me make some introductions. Arthur, Molly, these are Pierre and Giselle Delacour. This is their daughter, Fleur, who, along with their son, Harry, are visiting Hogwarts as part of the Quidditch Tournament. And this is Gabrielle, their youngest."

Molly and Arthur turned to the other parents and smiled, although Molly wondered why they had been summoned if it were the Weasley family who had had a crisis.

"Pierre, Giselle, these are Arthur and Molly Weasley. They are Ginny's adoptive parents," Headmistress McGonagall continued.

The faces of the Delacour parents were pleasant enough as they nodded at the Weasleys, although there was an underlying tension that Arthur found a little strange. For her part, Molly wondered why the Headmistress had felt the need to specify that Ginny was adopted.

"This is Madame Olympe Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons, and this is Professor Filius Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw House," Headmistress McGonagall continued. "Now, there is quite a lot that has happened in the last couple of days, and I shall endeavor to be precise. First," she turned to the Weasleys, "Ginny and Harry have become a couple."

Arthur felt a slight pang in his heart at that, while Molly gaped in disbelief. "But, she's never-"

"I know, Molly. But she and Harry do seem to have fallen deeply in love. Please let me continue, as that is one of the minor parts of the story." At Molly's reluctant nod, the Headmistress went on. "The next thing you need to know is that the Delacours, with the exception of Pierre, are all Veela, to one degree or another." Noticing the Weasleys' questioning looks, she explained briefly. "This just means that they have some abilities that are not run-of-the-mill. One of which is casting fireballs."

Molly gasped. "But. . . but. . . Ginny. . .", and the light in her eyes dimmed.

"Yes, and therein lies the crux of the matter," Headmistress McGonagall continued. "About thirteen years ago, the Delacours' daughter, Madeline, was kidnapped, and they haven't found even a trace of her since."

Molly started crying, quietly, and Arthur wrapped an arm around her.

Headmistress McGonagall turned to the Delacours. "And about thirteen years ago, the Weasleys found a blond-haired baby girl in the woods, and, after failing to discover her parents, magically adopted her."

Giselle, too, started crying, and Pierre pulled her close. Gabrielle, who was sitting on Fleur's lap, sniffled a bit, while Fleur just held her a little tighter.

"Now, the girl in question is currently in the hospital wing. She's fine," Headmistress McGonagall hurried to clarify. "She just had some rather surprising news and fainted in shock. She's there with Harry, and yes, she has been told of the possibility that she's your daughter," she said, directing her look to the Delacours. "I think," she continued, "that we should continue our discussion there, so that everyone can be involved." She paused, then continued, "Unless there are any questions that you'd prefer to get out of the way now?"

Giselle, who somehow managed to look incredibly beautiful, even with red eyes, sniffed, then asked, "Do you have someone on staff who can do the Lineage Potion and charm?"

Headmistress McGonagall looked a question at Flitwick. He nodded, and she turned back to the Delacours. "Yes, Madame Delacour, although it is rather expensive. I hate to ask, but are you willing to pay for it?"

Giselle waved away that worry. "But of course, we need to know the truth."

Headmistress McGonagall nodded at that and turned to Flitwick. "Filius, will you please work with Madame Pomfrey in getting the potion and charm ready?"

The short professor agreed and left the room after bowing to the families.

No other question was raised, so Headmistress McGonagall ushered them out of her office and led them toward the Hospital wing.

oooooooooo

Ginny sat, speechless, staring at Harry. The idea that she'd finally found her birth family was not a comfortable one. Harry looked on, nervously, as his girlfriend just sat there motionless.

Finally, the silence got to be too much. "Um, Ginevra?" he asked.

Ginny blinked at him, then looked down. "I, uh, I don't know what to do," she confessed. "I'm a Weasley, aren't I? I mean, I know how to be a Weasley. It's not hard. I just fight with my brothers, play Quidditch, and eat my Mum's cooking. I don't. . . I don't know _how_ to be a Delacour! You're all so, so refined, and good-looking, and rich and proper and I'm just a little old Weasley, too many freckles and too quick to get angry and too skinny and too short-"

Harry wanted to interrupt her and deny her self-denigrations, tell her how beautiful she was, and that she wasn't too skinny. But on second thought he decided that it might be good for her to get this out before anyone else showed up.

"-and I'd have to move to France! I don't speak French!" Ginny's voice was getting louder and a bit hysterical now, and Harry was getting a little more worried. In spite of his reluctance, he thought he might need to step in.

"-and bouillabaisse-I mean, I like shrimp, and crab isn't too bad, but in tomato sauce?"

Harry leaned in and kissed her. She started to kiss him back, but dissolved into more tears. She pushed herself into his embrace as hard as she could, while great heart-wrenching sobs tore through her.

Harry was beside himself with worry. "Ginevra!" he called, desperately, but she just cried harder. It didn't seem as though she could even hear him, so he just held her as tight as possible and rocked her as his mother had done for him so many times before.

Eventually, her sobbings turned into low mutters, and her clinging hands turned to fists. Her mutters grew louder and she starting hitting Harry in the chest.

Harry cringed away as far as he could while still maintaining contact. Finally, though, it got so painful that he pulled her in as hard as he could, trapping her fists between them. But it seemed that the energy that had driven her fists needed an outlet, and she started yelling at Harry.

"How could you do this to me?" she yelled. "Make me fall in love with you, and tell me I'm a Veela, and that we're Mated for life! And now you tell me that-"

At this moment the doors to the Hospital Wing swung open, admitting quite a large group of people, spearheaded by a pair of red-haired adults. The crowd slowed to a halt, seeing the young couple in the middle of what looked like a furious row. The small chatterings and other noises they brought with them stilled into utter silence.

Which meant that everyone there heard, clear as day, as Ginny finished yelling, "-YOU'RE MY BROTHER!"

ooooooooooo

**Ending ****A****/****N****:** Major kudos to whomever can suss out the alluded-to movie from whence the title of this chapter sprang.


	17. Another Lineage Test

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 17, **Another Lineage Test**

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**A/N:** Please don't pass out in shock at seeing another chapter.

oooooooooo

The house was old and decrepit, and wore its desuetude with ill grace. It would have reminded someone, if someone had actually come close enough to notice, of a dowager who was still trying to maintain a façade of respectability in spite of worn-out lace, too-shiny taffeta dresses, and spidered stockings. But only if the dowager was also used to poisoning gentlemen callers, and who had a kitchen full of very sharp knives that were never used on something as innocuous as pork. Or beef.

If that someone were to step inside, the feeling of evil would have grown immediately stronger, more menacing, as if the bars had been taken off the cages in the zoo, and the wolverines were looking starved. Of course, the wolverines wouldn't have done anything, because with the pit viper right behind the someone, they wouldn't have had to do anything to forward their own agendas.

Inside the house, in one of the upper rooms, which had a fireplace big enough to roast a. . . well, a _something_, there was movement. A quick, sharp movement, as a rat scurried out of the shadows in which it had been lurking. The rat then stopped, and stood on its back paws, and started to grow.

"How _pleasant_ for you to finally join us, Wormtail." One of the other occupants deigned to notice the still rather rat-like man. This other occupant was about as far opposite this Wormtail as it was possible to be. At least in matters of dress and deportment; the feel of evil, and corruption, and barely concealed loathing, on the other hand, was very similar.

"You don't understand," were the first words of Wormtail. "I had to-"

"I don't care about your excuses, Wormtail," the aristocratic blond man sniffed. "What have you found out?"

"I don't have to answer to you, Malfoy" the other man sniveled. "You're not my master."

"No?" the blond asked quietly. "Do you truly believe that, Wormtail? Do you really think there is any sort of hope for you if I were to go to the authorities?"

Wormtail flinched, then straightened, marginally. "If you tell anyone. . . If you tell anyone, then I'll tell the Duchess."

_Snap!_ The sharp retort of a slender cane smacking flesh echoed around the room. "What did you say?" the taller man demanded. "You forget your place, Wormtail. You were the one who actually took the baby. Did you forget?"

"You can't prove that," whined Wormtail. "You can't go near the Veela colonies-you know how much they hate you. You can't tell anyone who matters!" Despite his defiant words, the look in Wormtail's face was that of a craven coward.

"Ah, Wormtail. You were never able to see the bigger picture, were you?" The look on Malfoy's face would have given pause to anyone. Well, anyone who wasn't already a craven coward. It had been quite some time since Wormtail had last looked the other in the eye.

Wormtail cringed even more, then snuck a glance at the large chair in front of the fireplace. It was always a gamble as to whether or not they would have an audience. Judging from their not having been interrupted yet, he assumed that the Dark Lord was either asleep, which he hoped devoutly, or biding his time so that his vengeance was fully ripe, which he rather feared.

Lucius smiled, slightly. It was the only outward expression of the inward satisfaction he had when being able to look down upon someone else. Which happened a lot. Truly he detested having to work with such lower-class slime, but then, there were things that only a rat could acquire.

"Enough," came a rasping wheeze from the chair. Wormtail blanched and started to perspire even more freely. "After being gone so long, Wormtail, I certainly hope that you were able to find what we needed."

Wormtail hunched over and sidled towards the fire. "Master, it was a difficult mission, understand, and I had to go to three different places-"

"Shut up, you stupid fool!" the rasping voice commanded. "I do not want to hear your sniveling excuses. Were you successful or not?"

Wormtail's head bobbed rapidly. "Yes, yes, Master. I was able to overhear a rather important conversation between Bagman and Snodgrass about the arrangements. We will be able to intercept the trunks without being seen." Here he shot a slightly supercilious glance at Lucius, but didn't say anything.

Lucius knew that Wormtail felt some modicum of superiority over him, due to his much-used Animagus form, but truly didn't care. He knew exactly how valuable Voldermort found the rat, and looked forward to the day when that almost-insignificant value was eclipsed by the man's cowardice.

The creature on the chair, having noticed the byplay, wheezed a small laugh, which did not bring any sort of cheer to the air of the stifling room. "Wormtail, do not forget that your usefulness to me is not such as would keep me from immediately replacing you."

Wormtail's face paled even more, and he fell to his knees in front of the chair. "Of course, Master. I am always yours to command."

"Of course you are, Wormtail. Never forget that I own you. Now, tell me exactly what you overheard."

Wormtail glanced fearfully at the creature, then started to speak in a whining voice. As he did so, the creature in the chair occasionally let out a dry, rasping laugh, which did nothing to reassure Wormtail.

Their planning session lasted until late that night.

oooooooooo

Chaos was the order of the day in the infirmary. Ginny's last exclamation, and the collective intake of breath from the horde gathered at the door preceded a commotion any self-respecting riot would be proud of. Ginny's mother. . . well, one of Ginny's mothers, apparently, started it off.

"WHAT!?" Molly showed off the talent that she used mostly for controlling her sons. All the redheads in the room flinched, but Molly took no notice of that. She was, after all, somewhat busy racing towards her daughter. She wasn't the only one. Harry's (and perhaps Ginny's other) mother was right behind her. She wasn't as vocal, but she managed to keep up with Molly Weasley. The respective husbands didn't sprint, but their walk was rather accelerated. Small dust flurries fled from their feet's passage.

And it was a rather interesting demonstration of the fact that sounds become higher-pitched as the entity emitting the sound travels towards the listener.

This last observation was only noticed by Hermione, as the two on the bed were too preoccupied with the red-headed missile. Harry thought about casting a shield, but didn't have time to even reach for his wand before he found himself subjected to a possibly life-threatening hug. He was embarrassed at the squeak that slipped out when Mrs. Weasley hugged him, but thankfully no-one noticed.

A giggle from his Bonded alerted him to the fact that his estimation of audience size was too small by one. But hearing her laugh like that gave him some hope that she'd gotten past her former pique.

A sniffle from the same girl a moment later disabused him of the notion. He tried to turn to look at Ginny, but was still wrapped in Mrs. Weasley's arms.

Harry tried to disentangle himself, but found that not only had Molly seized him, but Ginny was now apparently trying to crush his hand with hers. It was somewhat painful, but reassured him that she still needed him and wanted his support.

Over the shoulder of his Mate's mother, he saw his own parents, who hadn't let Molly beat them by much in the footrace. His mother was anxiously hovering close by, and his father was standing just behind her with shiny hope-filled eyes.

Eventually the general loud conversation and jockeying for position alerted Molly to the rest of the audience, which seemed to have grown much larger while she'd been Molly-hugging the children. The Twins were there, and Arthur, of course. And Headmistress McGonagall. Oh, and there was Hermione, Ginny's best friend. Molly smiled slightly, noticing that Neville Longbottom had arrived too, and was holding Hermione's hand. The Twins, being who they were, were standing at the back and intently discussing something, although the other hub-bub obscured their voices. The Twins' friends, that nice Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson were there too.

The too-perfectly-beautiful Delacour woman was babbling something in French to her husband. And next to her were her two daughters, who were sniffling a bit while looking positively ravishing, which didn't seem quite fair, and looking at Ginny and Harry with mixed emotions. Which Molly could have probably guessed at if she'd had the time to think about it.

And there were a few other students that Molly didn't know. They looked like part of the delegation from Beauxbatons-maybe they were Harry's friends? In fact, the only one missing that should have been there was her Ronald, but perhaps that was a good thing, taking into account his rather-more-volcanic-than-usual-for-Weasleys temper.

Whatever the case, the sound levels in the hospital wing were approaching uncomfortable, even for the Weasleys. But no-one seemed to be in quite the right frame of mind to take charge.

Until the door to Madame Pomfrey's small potions lab flew open with a bang, and Madame Pomfrey came storming out. "What is going on here?" she demanded, in her best health-care professional voice, which had been known to cow even Albus Dumbledore, back when he had been the Headmaster.

This didn't help, as everyone tried to answer at once.

"She said she was-"

"-came in here for-"

"-soutenir notre frère-"

"-the fifty-two galleons-"

"-we just wanted to-"

"-our daughter-"

"-stupid Slytherin cow-"

"-Mairzy doats and dozy doats-"

"QUIET!" Madame Pomfrey yelled again. "The next person to interrupt will have the opportunity of staying here tonight and helping clean bedpans!" The threat was delivered at a volume that none of the horde had ever heard before. Well, at least in the hospital wing.

Silence achieved, Poppy continued. "Now, I want all the children out of here except immediate family members! You have 'til three!"

Half the group hotly responded with complaints and excuses until they heard "TWO!" Then there was a general stampede toward the door, although Hermione really did turn back and apologize for their rudeness, eliciting a ghost of a smile from the Headmistress.

Poppy looked around in disapproval, but couldn't quite force the rest of them out, although she was sorely tempted when she saw the Weasley twins, who were giving her their patented "Innocent Weasley Look No. 4", which she usually only saw when they had been discussing money. Satisfying herself with "No-nonsense Healer Glare No. 3", she turned around and waved Professor Flitwick out of the Potions lab.

He emerged carrying a basin with an oily pink liquid in it, and a large sheet of parchment, which was glowing a pale yellow.

The Weasleys looked rather curious at the sight, while the Delacours just looked hopeful.

Professor Flitwick took over, resting the stone basin on the table beside the bed where Ginny had been. He cleared his voice and gave the instructions. "We need to collect two drops of blood from you, Miss Weasley. I'll mix that into the Lineage Potion. It will turn white at which point I will place five drops onto one end of this piece of parchment. The magic in the parchment interacts with the potion, you see, and will normally draw out the family tree of the named individual. In a case like this, where there has been a magical adoption, we will actually get not only the family tree of the adoptee, but also the genealogy of the family into which she was adopted. These trees will extend back as far as the first appearance of the given individual's surname, or surnames, as we expect. Do you have any questions?"

Molly and Arthur looked at each other, then shook their heads. Ginny looked slightly. . . well, more than just slightly apprehensive, but Harry whispered something into her ear, and she stood up straighter, resolve strengthened.

Fred raised his hand. "Well, it's not really a question for you, Professor. What I mean to say is that Ron's not here-should we wait for him, Mum?"

Molly looked at Arthur, and they held one of their accustomed wordless conversations, before Molly turned back and shook her head. "No, Fred, I think it might be better if we just tell him afterward." She didn't notice the relieved look on Ginny's face.

"Okay, then. Miss Weasley, may I see your hand for a moment?" The blood dropped into the basin, and Flitwick stirred the potion carefully clockwise until all the yellow faded into a bright whiteness. He stuck a tongue depressor into the liquid, then lifted it out and carefully counted out five drops as they fell onto the charmed parchment.

Everyone watched in fascination as Ginny's name was slowly spelled out. Thin, spidery letters formed the name Ginevra Molly Weasley. But they kept writing, and the Delacours started tearing up when they read the final name; Madeline Amelia Delacour, b. 11 August, 1980. The lineage chart continued its work, tracing out both the Weasleys' and the Delacours' family tree, but no-one paid attention after that.

The silence was prolonged, as everyone tried to figure out what to do next.


End file.
